


Euterpe And Her First Last And Always Part 1 (Re) Beginnings

by HopelessWatersheep



Series: Euterpe And Her First Last And Always [1]
Category: Pink Floyd
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Curvy girls, Drug Use, F/M, Femdom, Genderfluid Character, Homoeroticism, Hostage Situations, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Infidelity, Light Bondage, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Minor Violence, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Nonbinary Character, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Sexual Dysfunction, Soap Opera, Stalking, Trapped In A Closet, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-01-05 14:40:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 93
Words: 129,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21210209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopelessWatersheep/pseuds/HopelessWatersheep
Summary: A soap opera that spans 40 years with multiple character perspectives.Maisie Wells is only 19 when she's swept up into the world of rock and roll when she meets young Roger Waters in a park in Cambridge, but much to the chagrin (maybe?) of the jaded, troubled bassist is charmed instead by his best friend Syd Barrett, a sweet, innocent, but unfortunately very sick boy. After a bizarre and sad set of circumstances leaves Syd and Maisie torn apart, she moves on, eventually...with shy, guarded, stable David Gilmour. This is their story: the story of a muse and her three artists, three (maybe?) love stories that leave four people tied for life (and after).Our story starts in 2006 at Syd's funeral, where three are reunited for the first time in years.P.S. - I have sprinkled references to songs and r/pinkfloydcirclejerk memes throughout this piece in the hopes that my friends there will give me a little bit of a cult following. Enjoy, guys!





	1. David - Cambridge, September 2006

**Author's Note:**

> I have tried to be respectful to some real life folks by changing their names. All real life girlfriends and wives have been omitted and have been replaced by original female characters. Though David's wife is not named in the beginning, it should be presumed that she is not in fact supposed to be Polly Samson. Some dates and situations have been changed to suit the flow of the story, such as moving the date of the Live Eight concert from '05 to '07. 
> 
> I couldn't include it in the tagging, but this fic contains a MD/lb dynamic that is very prominent, and the "little boy" is very submissive, perhaps to a point that may be shocking or uncomfortable for some. 
> 
> I have tried to be sensitive in my portrayals of mental illness, having a bit of a background in it, but understand that some aspects of my portrayal may feel triggering for some, so I have been careful not to name a diagnosis. 
> 
> This is supposed to be a soap opera, and as such is tropey, and proud of its tropey-ness. Anything can happen, there are no real rules, so sometimes you might think "this is ridiculous! This would never happen!" Don't let that dissuade you: this fic is fun.

So Syd's passed away. Pancreatic cancer and diabetes. He probably wasn't taking the best care of himself. Eating poorly, neglecting to exercise, in poor mental health. I'm sure towards the end Syd found some kind of happiness or peace. At the end of the day a sick person deserves that peace if they've managed to live some kind of a standard life. Syd had, I'd heard. He became a recluse, but threw himself into creative pursuits to pass the time and fulfill his need to create. He'd made friends and maintained a kind of peaceful, quiet, provincial life. 

I'm full of a mixture of emotions here at his memorial service. Syd and I never got along. I replaced him in Pink Floyd after his mind began to deteriorate and he fell into a break with reality. He never quite recovered from being replaced, of having his vision ripped from him, but there was no other choice. Syd was falling apart and taking his band with him, and they knew they were destined for commercial success. He used to show up at our gigs and stare at me with these haunted and tortured eyes as if all he wanted me to feel was intimidated. I knew he was disturbed, but I couldn't allow myself to fall victim to it. 

That wasn't the only way that we'd been in competition with one another. 

Around the time I started spending more time playing with Pink Floyd while Syd couldn't keep focus at practice, Roger started bringing a cute, shy brunette around named Maisie. Oh, man, I liked her from the beginning. She was quiet and introspective like I was, and she would smile this sweet smile and look up at me sometimes. When she did that it wrecked me. I couldn't stand it, and in a good way. I could never resist those beautiful eyes. I don't think she ever understood, really understood, how disarming her smile was. Roger threw her by the wayside, and Syd picked up her pieces. They stayed together until he treated her like a zoo animal and locked her up, and it couldn't be allowed to continue. I walked out of that house with her and made sure he left her alone. She and I became closer as the months went by, often choosing to spend time with each other rather than our friends. I don't think either of us knew what was going on for awhile. I mean, I liked her a whole lot, but I never saw it heading where it did.

Maisie and I ended up staying together for almost twenty years, but I never married her. What a fucking idiot I was. I have never stopped regretting it. Not only did I not marry her: I was touring so much that she felt so alone in our relationship. She left me one night after I'd come home from a tour. It was 1986. After that I spiraled into a deep depression, gained a lot of weight, and tried to fill my misery with food, drugs, and drink. It didn't work, but not for a lack of effort on my part. I met my wife some years after that, when I'd all but given up that Maisie would come back. Settled down, got married, thought it would be okay - it wasn't okay.

Maisie.

Maisie Wells. May Wells, actually, but her parents always called her Maisie, and it stuck. She'll always be Maisie to me. Maisie, my beautiful, sweet Maisie. Even without her I'm possessed by her. Perhaps more possessed by her now that I am without her.

And since I heard that Syd passed all I can really think of is that she will without a doubt be here since she was living with Syd. It will have been 20 years since I've seen her. I wonder what she will look like, what she'll sound like, and how she'll be. Will we speak to each other? Will we sneak a few moments alone? I know I shouldn't, but if I don't I'll regret it for the rest of my life.

Lost in thought, I stare into space, but something, something I can't really define, calls out to me to turn around. There's something I instinctively feel that makes me snap my neck. It's that energy. I'd know it anywhere. She's here. As I turn my head I see a small woman with a long mane of wavy platinum hair (formerly chocolate brown) dressed fashionably, but understated, mostly in dark tones. I crane my neck because I have to know. I can't leave it to chance. 

It's her. It's Maisie. 

And then she turns around too, and she looks straight at me. I'm lost in that face and that energy that I've never stopped wanting. I can't think; all I want to do is feel. She's staring back at me like she's feeling the same thing I am. Maisie knows I'm there, too. She's as aware of me and as taken with me as I am her. She's punched me furiously in the chest, the way I feel heavy and left breathless by my need of her. She barely blinks. I know she's lost in me, too. I find myself not blinking except just to check if it's actually her. It is. I know it is. 

I don't know how long I stared at her, but I feel a rush. My heart is racing. I'm sweating. I'm drowning. I nod at her, and walk right past Roger toward her, and her eyes widen as she sees me coming. There's a chance my wife saw me, which would be a real shame, but nothing can stop me. I'm going to talk to Maisie; I'd decided a few days ago that no matter what I'll try to sneak off with her if she'll come with me.

I'm pulled by the strength of her magnet, and I find myself standing in front of her, beholding her. I see her face flush with crimson warmth, her earthy innocent eyes still wide and lost in emotion just like mine.

"Hello," I say, lacking any words that can capture the aching in my guts that comes with my desperation. Her smile is reluctant and unsure, and I can see such a deep sadness behind it. She is as pained by our loss as I am. She always wore her emotions on her sleeve, and it was one of the things that made me fall in love with her. Passion might as well have been her middle name. Everything Maisie felt she felt completely. Her smile and laugh could lighten a room, and her anger could sometimes freeze it. Her sadness would break you into pieces, too. 

Maisie opens her mouth, takes a breath, and stops. She takes another, deeper breath, looks at me directly and with intent and opens her mouth again.

"Hi, David." She heaves a sigh of relief, and I do, too. My cheeks flush. I'm so god damned shy. It's always my downfall. She can't resist it, never could. And she can't now. I smile the tiniest smile at her and dart my eyes toward the floor, and when I look up and my eyes meet hers I see she's done the same. 

Then everyone around us disappears. We hear no one else, see no one else but each other. It's that night all over again.

"I'd like to talk with you for awhile."

"Would that be okay? You know. With your wife."

"I'm sure she won't mind. She'll understand."

"You sure?"

"Maisie, please just come." I see in her eyes that she's relented. 

"Okay."


	2. Maisie - Cambridge, September 2006

"Maisie," David whispers to me softly as if he is savoring the taste of my name on his lips. It's such an emotional rollercoaster, seeing him after all these years of being apart. On one hand I'm overjoyed, but on the other I'm just so sad: a sadness that reaches into the depths of my soul, fills every corner of it, infects it like a virus. We both have grown older, and we both have more years behind us than ahead, but my heart is brought back to the early days of our courtship. I was dating Syd for awhile, and the worse off he got the worse he treated me. The memory of being locked in that closet pained me for years. Those few months after, when David took care of me, were so important to my eventual recovery and reconnection with Syd, and of course...it was what led us to fall in love.

It wasn't long after that, when I'd begun to heal, that I realized I was in love with David. There were days I would want nothing more than to be in his presence, bathing in the glacial pools in his eyes. That's when I realized. It was that first night when I'd cried out in pain during a nightmare, and he pulled me toward his chest, wrapped me in his warmth and squeezed me until my breathing slowed and my sobs calmed to occasional hyperventilating. He stroked my hair and then pulled me in closer to his smooth, hard chest.

_"It's okay, Maisie. You don't have to be afraid. I'm here. I'm here so those dreams won't hurt you. You're safe with me." _

I felt so deeply touched all the way into my core that I began to feel I needed to act immediately, to let him know I wanted him. I pulled him up, stared at him with eyes filled to the brim with need, and wrapped my arms around him. 

_"Maisie…"_ he whispered with all the force of his desire. He leaned his forehead against mine and our eyes radiated one another. It was a magical, electric, powerful experience that stands out so much to me in my later years. It was what became the beginning of my entire life. The course of everything that led me here was charted at this very pivotal moment. 

_"Yeah?" _

_"I think I'm in love with you." _

We pulled apart and shared a knowing, intense look that could obliterate a city. He pulled me close, and with all the heat of the sun we kissed: passionately, deeply, madly. My hands roamed through his beautiful dirty blonde locks, and then down to his well muscled shoulders.

_"I've fallen in love with you, David. I know I have." _

Our kisses grew frantic and we got lost in the throes of finally opening our floodgates. I could feel the sensuality of his beautiful bow shaped and so perfectly full lips on mine, perfectly in sync, feeling everything together. 

Unfortunately, I needed him around more than he could be, and I left him. He was just on tour for way too long and too often. It was so lonely because I knew that if we could have always been together we would be so happy. David never did anything to drive me away except tour. He's an incredibly soulful and sensitive man, and that sometimes caused problems. When he was hurt he was so deeply hurt. But when David was in love he was so deeply in love. I'm the same way. I love passionately and deeply and I needed him with me. I needed his body and all of him at night, and on Sunday mornings drinking coffee and laughing at the newspaper. I needed him on more holidays than I got with him. I was wilting.

He's here at Syd's memorial service, which it's taken us about two months to actually pull off. Roger is, too, but I haven't spoken much to him. I refuse to have much to do with him. He caused me so much pain: led me on when I was so young and vulnerable and especially gullible. I really believed Roger liked me. He made it very clear that he didn't. Not to mention what a shithead he was to David, and how he fired Rick heartlessly and without a second thought.

We quietly slipped into an empty sitting room in the venue, and we are in the middle of catching up when he lets my name desperately escape his lips. He still has feelings for me, I think. I still have feelings for him, too. I don't think I'll ever stop having those feelings.

I didn't expect him to draw me close so suddenly, but he does, as if he has no control. The memory of the safety of his embrace returns to me as he clings tightly to me and I turn my face up to look at him. We share a prolonged look.

"David, you're married. You can't."

"I know...but you're here." 

"We can't do this. I won't do this to your wife and children. I couldn't. I..." I squirm, trying to escape, but he just pulls me closer to his chest and squeezes me tighter, holding my arms and my body still with his strength. He gently strokes my cheek, his thumb grazing my jawline, and holds my face up toward his. His eyes rest on my lips as I quiver. 

"Don't deny me. Don't deny this." 

"Oh, and what is this, exactly?" 

"You and me. This." And then he takes my cheek in his palm and I feel his lips brush against mine, his shy kisses filled to the brim with the fullest experience of ecstasy. I know this is wrong and we shouldn't be doing it. I know there are 6 children and a wife, all innocent, who could be very hurt by this, and that it could very well destroy their marriage. I know all this, and yet I submit to his kiss, wrapping my arms around his strong shoulders and letting him lead me to more passionate and hungrier kisses. I beg silently for me to want it to stop, but I know I don't. I don't, and I can't.

"David, we can't." 

"We can. Don't push me away, Maisie. I've longed for you since you left me. You aren't the kind of woman a man puts behind him." I half-heartedly struggle in his grasp because I know, as wrong as this is, I am only struggling so he will fight to hold onto me. He does. With every squirm he holds me tighter and begins to kiss my neck.

"I know you don't want to pull away."

"You know me too well." A smile shines on his beautiful face. His eyes are lit up like lanterns flying into the sky at night over a lake: blazing, intense, and so beautiful that you don't believe it could be real.

"But David… you never tried to get me back. I left, and you just let me go."

"You told me not to. If you hadn't said that I would have waited for years longer to move on. I'd have fought like hell just to bring you home. You couldn't have been rid of me. I have always adored you, Maisie. It hasn't changed."


	3. Roger - Cambridge, September 2006

They think no one sees them, but I've been standing outside the door for as long as they've been there. I was hoping to talk to both David and Maisie, but I saw them sneak off together, and decided I wanted to know what they'd gotten up to. I see the entire business unfold. I watch David pull Maisie in close to his chest and watch as he tenderly, but firmly, subdues her struggle to break free of his embrace. _I'm not letting you get away again_, his body language tells her, and she doesn't want to get away, so she stops fighting. When Maisie really fights you, you're defeated, but she doesn't truly fight often. 

Then I watch him as he fights to pull her face toward his and lays a gentle kiss upon her rosebud mouth, resting his forehead against hers after their lips finally part and drinking her in with his eyes, soaking in every part of her. She blushes a deep shade of red, and I can't hear what he says, but I know that it certainly does not look as if twenty years have separated them. 

It was always obvious after Maisie left David and returned to the States, according to Nick mostly, that David had never stopped being in love with Maisie, even after he married and his family grew. Now I see, without a doubt, that Maisie never stopped loving David. 

Maisie always possessed a magical and natural quality that drove the three of us wild for her, or rather, many of them. She was innocent, magnetic, beautiful in a unique way, warm, comforting, but quiet. Aloof and serious with strangers, bashful and sweet with acquaintances, and funny and open with friends. She was voluptuous and had some meat on her bones when the beauty industry told her that was passe', but by and large men didn't buy into that, or at least we didn't. I'd discarded her. Got bored with her. I knew Syd was trying to worm his way in, and I knew she was falling for it. It's not that I don't believe Syd had genuine feelings; I know he did, and he did for the entirety of his life after they were together. But I knew he'd be too much for her. He was too erratic, too paranoid, too insecure to have a healthy relationship, and he'd never had a healthy relationship. His girlfriends before her grew bored with his introversion or abused him for laughs because he was so delicate and trusting until he went mad.The climax of that abject mess, their relationship, was for Maisie to be locked in a closet for five days, held prisoner by a paranoiac who couldn't bear the thought of her escaping him. 

Of course David had enthusiastically volunteered to let her stay with him. That's where that began. 

And decades later both Syd and David had and have carried torches. They burned with a shocking blue flame, too hot to be held by anyone. It was a blessing for Syd that Maisie had agreed to care for him in his last months. How she had ever forgiven him, I don't know. 

Even I sometimes think fondly back on my early days seducing Maisie, drawing her into my web of lust, and secretly harboring some deeper feelings of admiration that I was intent never to share with her or anyone else. But my dim and weak flame did not compare to David's wild blaze. Nick told me, despite my disinterest, that there were times David felt tortured by that loss, by that longing and that emptiness. I don't doubt it. Maisie is a special woman. 

I figure if neither David nor I are present for the occasion at the moment the other mourners, including David's poor wife, would assume we had left to talk privately about the loss of Syd. This is alright with me, and I'll stay for that reason.


	4. David - Cambridge, September 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David recounts the circumstances that led he and Maisie together.

Her lips and her eyes. Chocolate brown eyes that turn honey colored in the sun, and full lips always perfectly pouted. I've been lost in longing for them for twenty years. Why I hadn't married Maisie when I had the chance I don't and will never really understand. I was going to propose when I came home, but she left me that night, and it was no wonder. If I hadn't had to tour I wouldn't have left her side. She knows this, I suspect, and I also suspect (and now know) that she'd longed for me, too. 

I can't even tell her how badly I have missed and craved her. I can't find the words. I've been letting it manifest in my guitar for as long as I can remember. And they wonder why I play so "weepy". It's coming from somewhere. 

"My dear Maisie." Her warmth against my body brings upon me a feeling that I've never managed to feel with anyone else. God, just to hold her in my arms again. What I'd do if I could rewind my life. I'd never have let her go. I'd have taken her with me, wouldn't have let her stay home by herself. I'd have married her after 5 years like I meant to instead of waiting.

The first time I met her I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. She was just another girl hanging on Roger's arm, so it seemed. Another one of his playthings. He'd run through them like an alcoholic with a 24 pack of beer. There'd be a new groupie every few months, or really...before Maisie...weeks or days. Young ladies of all types, but always just out of their teens. Barely legal. It had always disgusted me, but she was 19 when we met, and 23 when we got together, so she was about the same age as all Roger's conquests. Most of those girls were vapid and shallow, or the kind of sleazy chicks you don't bring home to mum. Until he met Maisie, anyway, and then his first ex wife Cora.

But Maisie was different. She was lovely, and down to earth, and fascinating, and she wasn't a groupie either, just a normal girl. I don't think Roger bothered to take a real interest in her, to see how fascinating she was. She had a big bright crooked smile and beautiful brown doe eyes, and her hair cascaded down her back, brushing the curve of her voluptuous bottom. And god, it still does. I must admit though, I'm very surprised (and not unpleasantly so) by how my girlfriend, who started out a sweet bookworm who barely spoke, and then became a sweet and gregarious hippie chick, has become a tough and independent woman clad in a black Hillary pantsuit and black Louboutins (those shoes were a goal for her, and so I'm glad she has them). I can't wait to hear about how that happened. I suspect it comes with the territory of being in a high powered position at a reputable publication.

Both Syd and I loved to make her laugh. Roger never tried to make Maisie laugh. I knew early on that he would grow bored and discard her, and I couldn't let it happen because then I wouldn't see her again. I had tried to slip her a note begging her to turn her eyes toward me, to see me, to come to me. Alas, I'd been too much of a coward to sign my name, and she thought Syd had placed it there. Desperate to make an impression, my rival had taken credit for my shy mating call. 

It was excruciating in so many ways to bear such strong feelings, but to watch the object of my affections feel those things for someone else. I suppose, in a way, my suffering was deserved. After all, I had stolen Syd's band. It seemed only fitting that he'd steal my girl. 

Syd's deterioration had started subtly, with him routinely missing practice, playing erratically and bizarre behavior on stage. I guess Maisie didn't think much of it because Syd took her in after Roger had thrown her out. He swept her off her feet with his boyish, whimsical charms, and he'd thrilled her. He'd seduced her: showered her with affection and adoration. Any woman probably would have overlooked the dam beginning to crack when faced with such a persistent and adoring admirer who also happened to be beautiful and brilliant.

As he began to deteriorate further their house deteriorated into squalor: a mess that Maisie couldn't keep up with on her own. Syd was confined to his bed most days, lost in his own head and unable to see anyone. Like true friends on Roger, Rick and Nick's part, and like a guilty interloper on mine, we decided to help Maisie clean, paint, throw things away and in any way we could make their home pleasant. Syd, refusing to leave his bed, wasn't present after Roger and the boys had gone to pick up some food. I stayed behind to keep Maisie company. It was the least I could hope for. I watched her step up a few rungs on the ladder, paintbrush in hand, and it started to wobble. I tried to steady it, but lost that battle.

I remember the exact moment when she fell off that ladder and I caught her in a tight embrace, and how it made me feel. We both froze, then laughed. I held on to her for a few moments too long, I know I did, and I may have tightened my grip just a little too much. To my surprise she didn't fight me or seem unwilling. Even if she was just stunned, she didn't fight me at all or seem at all distressed. I thought...maybe she'll want to stay like this. We did...for a minute, until I heard Roger talking loudly. Then I heard Syd screaming for Maisie, and before I could fully appreciate what just happened she was gone, running to her bird with a broken wing. Fuck, I'd thought. I almost got somewhere. 

No one had heard from either of them for five days which was unusual because we were very involved in helping with Syd's care at the time. Worried, Roger had asked me to check on them. I am still really not sure why, but I suspect he could tell that I cared for Maisie, and he had expressed to me that he felt bad that Maisie had gone from one bad living situation into a worse one. 

I was shocked and horrified to find Syd sitting with his back against the door of a closet, and to hear Maisie's screams coming from inside of it. I could hear her frantically banging on the wall, sobbing, begging and pleading with Syd to please let her out. She was hysterical. I was surprised no one had called the police. Some kind of fury switched on inside me. It wasn't a feeling I felt often. Like an electric charge that sparks rage and jolts me into action. 

I was shaking with fury, and I barrelled toward him like an angry bull (Maisie: bad luck, bride of a bull...right? Yeah. That song wasn't just word salad. I was the bull, obviously). I remember charging him and knocking him to the ground, and having to consciously stop myself from hurting him beyond what was necessary. I should have only knocked him down, but I did pound his head into the floor a few times. I wanted to pound my fist through his skull, though, and further fuck up his fried brain. I hated him in that moment. I remember just really wanting him to die. Once I'd thrown Syd to the side I frantically pulled the door open, almost ripping it off the hinges, to find Maisie huddled in the back corner, sobbing hysterically. She was dirty, disheveled, sleep deprived and hungry. There was no way I would allow her to stay there, and I didn't think for a second of calling the police; I just had to get her away. I swung her over my shoulder and without saying a word I left to carry her out. She was still sobbing, but her cries grew even more frantic as Syd started to scream and beg.

_"She belongs to me! She's mine. Bring her back! Maisie…Maisie, don't go. Don't let him take you away!"_ There was a whole lot more nonsense, too, about how he'd wait forever for her, which I hope he fucking did because it would serve him right. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. We got in my car, and I drove her back to my place. She had nowhere to go, so I asked her to stay with me, and she did. 

And that was the last Maisie ever saw of Syd until she agreed to stay with him. But our romance bloomed out of that terrible tragedy.


	5. Syd - Cambridge, December 2005

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Syd, after devoting years to mental health recovery, has worked up the courage to make contact with the woman he drove away. Will she be receptive, or will she hang up the phone?

I never saw Maisie again after that day, except for one very painful day in the mid 70s. David wouldn't let me near her. I remember sitting outside his house a few times waiting for Maisie to come out to see me so I could only talk to her and tell her I was sorry. Beg her to come back. But he kept her trapped in the house away from me. And he told me what I did was worse. 

I guess it was. I'd just become so paranoid, so broken, and I saw the way David looked at her, and I knew he wasn't better than stealing from another man because he already stole my first love from me, my band. She'd leave me for him, I knew, just like Roger and the others did. I couldn't let it happen. I couldn't let her run away. She was all I had then. She used to come into my room and comfort me and lay with me and let me hold her until the demons left. I couldn't be without that. She wasn't trapped in there the whole time, not that it made any difference in how damaging it was to her, and what a disgusting thing it was to do on my end. I took her out at night to let her use the bathroom and then brought her to bed with me so I could be near her while I slept. Looking back on it now makes me ill. I feel physically ill when I remember the way she begged me to please let her out. She was so sad and so scared, and I never wanted her to be scared of me. I've spent a long time in therapy talking about it. It took me forever to admit that I was sick and to take full responsibility for violating her that way. Now so many years later I cripple myself with guilt.

It never crossed my mind that she might not want to be with me anymore. She'd loved me, hadn't she? Why would she want to run away? Maybe she did. Maybe all that time Maisie was trying to figure out how to leave me alone, and David didn't take her away, he just helped her get what she'd already wanted.

Nonetheless I knew David swooped in after she'd left. It had taken awhile, but they ended up together, and then ended up apart. That's what Roger said, anyway, on one of the few times we'd talked. I have to confess that I was a little happy when I heard they broke up because David stole her from me. It served him right. I was also sad, though, because Roger said she loved him so much and I knew her heart was broken. I wanted to call her then, to tell her to please not be sad, that I'd help mend her broken heart again, but my sister Rosemary wouldn't let me. 

I tracked down her number (my nephew was the one who did, actually) weeks ago and sat with the decision to call her and ask her to see me unmade. She probably wouldn't even say yes. There's no way she'd agree to come here. Still, though, I had to try. I don't have much time left, I know. I can tell death will come for me soon, and I want to make my exit knowing we have made amends. I've never loved since then. Both Roger and David moved on. I didn't. I couldn't. I wrote most of my songs about her, many of which ended up on my solo albums. The rest ended up on the cutting room floor, stashed away with everything else I couldn't bother to finish, or burned with my paintings while I was in one of my fits. David had helped me with those albums at Roger's request. It was so awkward and unfair having to work closely with the man who had stolen my band and my love from me. I couldn't stand David. He was such an asshole then. As revenge I would often turn up at their gigs and stand up front in the audience and stare at David until it threw him off. I hoped he'd fail. I hoped he'd get thrown out like I did. It would serve him right. 

Now my hand lingers on the call button on this infernal contraption my nephew bought for me, this cell phone thing. I can't stand it. Gives too many people easy access to me. But it could be useful now that I know how to reach Maisie after all these years. Taking a deep breath I press the call button and listen to the phone ring on my end. Will she even answer?

"Hello?" That's her sweet voice. It sounds older. Jaded. Tired. But it's still hers. It's still Maisie on the other end of the line. 

"Maisie?"

"....yes?" She sounds apprehensive, almost disturbed.

"Maisie, it's Syd." The line went quiet, and I am terrified she's hung up as a rush of pain courses through my blood. But a few seconds later she answers.

"Syd? Syd Barrett?" 

"Yes. It's me."

"Is this a prank? No one's heard from Syd in years."

"No, Maisie. It's me. I promise." Again the line goes quiet. She's probably really hung up this time. I check, and we are still connected. She just isn't speaking.

"What is it…?" She sounds pensive, even more than she did before she knew it was me. 

"I'm dying, Maisie. I've got pancreatic cancer, and I don't think I have much time left."

Another long, drawn out pause, as if she's reacting to the news, but doesn't want to tell me what she's feeling.

"Well, I'm very sorry to hear that, Syd. That's unfortunate." She sounds so cold. I feel like I've been stabbed in the heart with a pitchfork. It hurts to hear her sound so cold. This is what I deserve. I've earned this. But I have to press on. 

"I would really be appreciative if you would come and stay with me for awhile so we can make amends before I die. I've never forgotten you." Maisie sighs deeply, perhaps unsure of what she wants to do, and exasperated that I'd even spring it on her this way. Maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe I should have just tried to rekindle a friendship without an invitation. But I can't. I don't think I can go to my grave knowing Maisie and I didn't fix things between us. And I've never stopped loving her. I've never stopped wanting to see her again. 

"Are you really calling me after all of these years, when the last time I saw you you had locked me in a closet, to ask me to fly to England to spend time with you?" 

"You won't have to pay for anything."

"That's not the point. The point is that you don't understand why this is a really unfair request to make." I hang my head, certain that will be the end of our conversation. I don't blame her. What I did was cruel and inhumane, and I probably have no business reaching out, let alone asking her to carve out time in her life to visit me in England. 

"I understand, Maisie. I'm sorry I called. I won't bother you again."

"Wait, Syd." I go completely silent; I'm surprised beyond belief. Does this mean she's going to come?

"Okay…"

"I'll come see you. I was lucky enough to retire early, and so I have time to spare." 

I'm over the moon I'm so happy. At least now at the end I'll finally have something to look forward to again.


	6. Maisie - Cambridge, September 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David and Maisie continue to get reacquainted in secret, but will anything really come of it?

Now that David and I have started down this path I don't think either of us can turn around and go back. I know he's got a family, and so most likely this will be our last meeting. But I don't - I've had a life full of rich experiences and deep friendships, and many lovers, but I've never married or had my own children. In the past few months my family had been my ex boyfriend, his sister, and her son, and the bond that I've formed with the latter two will last a lifetime. 

But David….he's got a life full of children, grandchildren, and a loving wife. He's never going to want to see me again after this, and so I fully intend on enjoying it as much as I can. 

I feel his eyes burning a hole through me as he strokes my silver hair.

"You've never looked more beautiful than you do now, you know."

"You flatter me, David Gilmour. It won't work this time!" I smile, hoping he'll play along with my humor, but he doesn't.

"I mean it. You're still absolutely breathtaking. I may suffocate in your presence, my love." Now he smiles and I pull him close to me and kiss him.

"You don't look so bad yourself. You've never been as strong as you are now." 

"If by strong you mean chubby I suppose you'd be correct." 

"I don't mean that. You're still very sexy."

"I'm not the heartthrob I was when we were together."

"Well, now that I'm no longer the young thing I was then I like you better this way." I could stay forever with him like this. 

David and I had a healthy, securely attached, loving relationship. He never once strayed from me on the road, which is more than could be said for most men in his position, including his friend Roger. It was Nick who had confirmed for me that David never even thought twice about rejecting the advances of the hot young women that propositioned him all the time. We were more than enough for one another. When we were apart we spoke every night by phone, but wrote lengthy and dramatic love letters to one another just for fun. When he came home we made love all night, making up for all the time we'd missed. But after so many years I couldn't do it anymore. I still regret it. I wish I could go back and ask him to take me with him. I thought by staying home and working I was showing him how much I believed in him when what I was really doing was making myself miserable. There was a period of years where I felt like I was being crushed: slowly flattened under the boulder of chronic loneliness without David. My friends spent holidays with their men who had already married them, they had lazy days where they could do nothing, and they birthed and raised their children. They raised one, then two, then three kids, and David and I scrambled to catch and hold on to months, sometimes weeks...hold tightly on to those lucky moments where we were allowed to be comfortable with one another. 

I rest against his solid chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart, and I place my hand over it. His hand is stroking my long, silver mane, and I lock my arms around his thick muscled (but still so nice to cuddle)upper body. I love the smell of him. It's such a comfort to me as I think back on that night lying together under the moon, clinging to one another and letting our bodies communicate for us. I loved him in a way I've never been able to love anyone else, and still to this day I love him that way.

"We'll have to step out of here sooner or later, you know. At some point I'm sure people will start to wonder where we are."

"Not yet, though, right?" I look up into his eyes, pleading with him with my own, knowing he can't resist them. He laughs at me and shakes his head, but I know he'll give me more time. He could never stand the sad eyes for long.

"You minx." I lean my head back, and he takes my hand and kisses my neck while I giggle. Maybe this is a little too far for a funeral... we should stop. A polite cough comes from behind us. We've been caught!


	7. Roger - Cambridge, September 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger offers to do David and Maisie a favor, but why? Is there more to him than meets the eye?

"Now, now, lovebirds. Let's keep this suitable for at least a teenaged audience, shall we? After all, we are at a funeral." The two of them are terrified when they turn around to look at me, and it makes me feel pretty fucking good for some reason. I suppose they thought someone a little more important (perhaps David's wife) had caught them. 

"Roger." David moves away from Maisie, but not far enough away that he has to let go of her. How sweet. The two of them can't seem to keep their hands off one another. But then again I'm hardly surprised.

"Yes, yes. It's only me. Be grateful."

"How long have you been there?" Maisie already looks furious, as if she can't even look at me without feeling all the hurt and anger I feel as if she's held on to for entirely too long. For some reason the way she looks at me stings. It doesn't feel good to have her look at me that way, but why?

"Oh, since this entire business started. But don't worry, I have no intention of selling you out." Maisie shudders with disgust. I know the mere thought of me makes her retch, but I wish it didn't make me feel so bad.

"Is there something you'd like to talk to one of us about, Roger?" David tightens his grip on Maisie's shoulder and pulls her a little closer. I wonder why the possessiveness? I'm happily married, unlike my friend here, and I'm not thinking at all of throwing my marriage away on an old flame. 

"I only wanted to speak to both of you. There's a lot I thought I should say. Then I saw you wander off."

"And you thought the right thing to do was to follow and watch us?" 

"Look, both of you...David, Maisie...as it relates to this I suggest you continue this somewhere else this evening. Perhaps the funeral of a dear friend and former lover is not the best place to be flirting with getting … reacquainted." Both of them turn deep shades of crimson, but smile knowingly at one another. They know exactly what they're doing. "And so, I offer to cover for you, David. Use my hotel room, tell your wife you're with me. I'll make other arrangements. I suppose it's the least I can do after the pain and frustration I've caused you both." I'm feeling generous tonight. After all, Syd wanted Maisie to be happy, and being alone for the evening with David would make her happy. And I do feel regret for the way I hurt Maisie, and for the way that I have deprived David of the credit he's due for all he contributed to our musical venture. 

"That's very nice of you, Roger, thank you." David nods at me, letting himself break into a smile reluctantly. They must be so relieved and excited to be able to spend the night together exploring and rediscovering the depths of their love and the heat of their desire. Every good person deserves to feel that way with someone, and I figure Maisie isn't getting it right now, and David isn't getting it from his wife, so I feel like I have every obligation to assist them in that. A shame, though. He will probably have to walk away fairly soon.

"Maisie, I'd like to catch up with you later. If you don't mind, I'd like to speak to David privately for awhile." Maisie smiles at David again and kisses him. I see the excitement in both of their eyes as they share a look of both knowing they will explore one another again later. Maisie kisses David on the forehead so lovingly , as if she is grateful only to be with him. She turns around and smiles at us both one more time before leaving the room. David's eyes follow her, full of passionate but pathetic longing, until she disappears down the hallway. Yeah...I know how that feels.


	8. David - Cambridge, September 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The complicated, cyclical relationship between Roger and David is on full display here, but David can hardly keep his mind in the present moment...

As Maisie walks away I fix my eyes upon Roger. I'm certainly suspicious; Roger never sticks his neck out for other people this way. He's self obsessed and looks out mostly for his own interests. Basically, I've always considered Roger Waters to be a brilliant but mean, vindictive, and venomous asshole. There must be some ulterior motive here. There always is.

"Is there a reason you're going so far out of your way for us, or have you changed?" Roger places his hand over his heart as if to say, "Who, me?" 

"Well, truthfully, I'm thinking mostly of Syd."

"Syd?" That seems ludicrous. Maisie and I spending the night together wouldn't be what Syd would have wanted. He used to stalk both of us. Sometimes he'd stand outside my house waiting for Maisie to come out so she'd reassure him what he did was forgivable in any way and then fall back into his arms like the idiot he apparently thought she was. A few times she had been tempted. It never happened on my watch. He was going to have to go through me if he was going to get anywhere near Maisie and drag her back into his bullshit, and after the beating I gave him he was never going to do that. 

"I know it doesn't make sense to you, but Syd and I did a lot of talking toward the end, you know, around the time Maisie was there. He said a lot of things that are making me do what I'm doing."

"Are you going to tell me what they are, Roger?" 

"Now, David, why the tone?" I can tell when Roger is toying with me by now. He's got that feigned innocence that's always been a dead giveaway of him completely blowing you off. "I could always rescind my offer." 

"Don't do that. I'm sorry." I hate having to grovel in front of this douchebag especially when I'm trying not to froth at the mouth with anger at this man who I'm supposed to be mourning, but who I actually won't ever forgive or respect as a person. It sometimes feels like everyone, even Maisie, sweeps the inexcusable behavior under the rug to protect who they thought Syd was. It was disappointing to me when I found out Maisie was caring for Syd. What did he ever do to deserve that besides cater to her desires with superficial flattery and severely traumatize her, anyway? I let her sleep in my bed with me long before we became romantically and sexually involved. She needed someone next to her because her nightmares were so hellish that she was terrified to sleep by herself. Maisie would toss and turn violently in her sleep, sometimes crying out in fear and pain. I needed to calm her. Those moments led her into my arms eventually. It got so hard that I could only spare her from it if I held her. I knew I was in love with her then. 

"In truth, I have other things to talk to you about. When I speak to Maisie later I'll tell her all of that, and maybe she'll tell you. You and I have other things we should discuss." 

Roger talks my ear off. Pays the usual lip service about feeling guilty for not giving me enough credit, thanks me for all I contributed to the band, asks me how life is, gives me a long update on what he's been up to. It's nice, I suppose, to talk to him like this. It's only that I've heard this speech before, multiple times, and nothing ever changes. Roger will be denying I contributed to the band's success in any way by next week, and telling some intrepid interviewer that he and I aren't friends and never have been. It's the same old story with Roger. For as badly off as Syd was Roger is only considered more sane because his actions and thoughts and words aren't so completely disorganized. I'm careful in my reception of his words, however, because no matter his reasons for giving Maisie and I his room the fact is that he did, and I don't want to do anything to make him change his mind. 

As he blathers on about his latest project my mind wanders. Distant memories. The kind of memories that make me long even more for when I'll be able to get out of here and sneak away into a sensual paradise. Maisie has always been insecure about her body, but I've always thought it was incredible. And now she's got all the marks of a woman who's lived a full and happy life. She's still soft and shapely, though, and I wonder if her skin is as smooth as it was when we last enjoyed one another. 

I'm beyond nervous about meeting her tonight. I'm also terrified that it won't work: that my wife will be suspicious and figure us out. What a tragedy that would be for everyone, specifically my children. I'm trying to fight off the urge to think "but maybe it wouldn't be so bad…."


	9. Syd - Cambridge, January 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Syd and Maisie are reunited. Will Syd be able to convince her that he's truly changed, and will Maisie accept him?

I'm so nervous I've chewed off my nails. My sister's been here today, and left to pick Maisie up at the airport. She isn't sure she should leave Maisie and I alone. Doesn't she trust me? I know it isn't Maisie she distrusts because I've never said a negative word. She does know what I did all those years ago, though. Maisie will be here shortly. I wonder how long she'll stay, how she'll look, what she'll say, and if she'll forgive me. 

The door opens,its melancholy creaking spooks me and I begin to sweat. My sister walks through the door first, carrying a Louis Vuitton suitcase and carry on bag. I look around her and then Maisie walks through the door. She's still so beautiful: her curly hair is silver now, but still as long as it always was, cascading down her back and pulled back in a low ponytail. She's dressed stylishly all in black. A blazer over a blouse and chic black slacks with simple flat shoes. I drop the glass I'd been holding full of water as my hands begin to tremble, and it shatters. Embarrassed, I kneel down to pick up the pieces, swearing softly to myself, but Rosemary pulls me up and kneels down to clean it all up instead, leaving me to take on this moment, the one I thought would never come. 

I stare at Maisie, standing motionless in front of her, shocked and not sure what to say. I just can't believe she's really here after all these years that I've waited for her. I told her I'd never give up, and she's come home. I can't believe it. I can't breathe, because if I breathe I know I'll sob.

Maisie's home. She really came home! 

"Hi, Syd." She smiles slightly at me, and I start to blubber like a toddler, just like I knew I would. My tears stream down my face like a river and violate any sense of dignity I had left. I still can't move, though. I'm not sure whether I should touch her, hug her. She walks toward me with apprehension, and reaches her arm out to touch my shoulder. I shiver at the reality of her touch and place my hand over hers which is still resting on my shoulder. She pulls her hand away upon feeling my hand, which makes me sob even harder because I know it's my own fault. 

"I'm so sorry," I manage to force out somehow. With Rosemary gone bringing the trash into the garage I fall on my knees in front of Maisie and grab her hands with desperation. Instead of pulling me up to my feet she kneels down to my level, and this time lets me continue to hold her hands. I squeeze them, savor them: the touch of the gentle hands of my most beloved person. I've waited so long just to feel the touch of her hands: to be in her presence, to be lucky enough to be close enough to make any kind of physical contact, and to have it be welcomed this way. I'm still crying tears of joy, sorrow, regret. Only her sweet smile can calm them. 

"I forgive you. Stop this, okay? This is unnecessary. You don't have to beg. I wouldn't have come here if this is what I wanted." She holds her arms open, and I gratefully allow her to wrap me in them while I relish the lost feeling of the comfort of her warmth. Can this really be happening? Is she really here? Has she really forgiven me, or is this just another version of the same dream I've had so many times?

"I'm so sorry, Maisie. I'm so sorry. I was so sick." I squeeze her as tightly as she will allow me, and allow my tears to fall into her hair. Finally she pulls away, but she keeps her hands on my shoulders, and she smiles at me... I missed that sweet, awkward smile.

"No more apologies, okay? I'm here."


	10. Maisie - Cambridge, September 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maisie has a very awkward encounter after heading back to the service that shakes her to her core.

I step back into the room where Syd's urn is displayed for viewing. I'm looking for Rosemary and Ian thinking that it'll make me feel better to be near my family. Nick and Rick are here, too, though, so I will probably catch up with them a little before I slip out. I've figured I'll excuse myself in about a half hour, run home and pack up my things, and wait for David to call me so we can head over to the hotel. Should I get condoms? I've entered menopause already, and so I don't think I'll be getting pregnant, and I don't have any STDs, and I doubt David does. It's probably not necessary. Maybe I'll run to a lingerie shop and buy myself something to surprise him. I've never thought I looked all that good, but I know he does so maybe he'll like that. As I'm lost in thought wandering the room I spot Rosemary and make a beeline for her, but I'm stopped by … oh, god, it's David's wife: a leggy, beautiful fucking jet black haired supermodel I can't ever physically measure up to. 

"Hi, you're Maisie, aren't you? I'm sorry if I've got the wrong person." How would she even know that unless one of the guys or Rosemary told her, and why was she even asking? Could she have noticed the look David and I shared when we saw one another for the first time? I wonder how much he's told her about us. Maybe that's why she sought me out. Maybe she wants to see what it is that's kept her husband's mind from her.

"Yes, hi. You're David's wife, right? Nice to meet you." She is very clearly looking me over and sizing me up. I'm relieved to know we are around the same age too. Maybe a five years younger. He's attracted to her enough to have made her pregnant six times. I have to admit I'm a little jealous. I would've given anything to have had one child with David, let alone six. 

"I am. Nice to meet you too. I've heard a little bit about you. You're very beautiful." 

"Thank you. So are you...I'm sorry, David and I haven't talked in 20 years so I'm afraid I've heard next to nothing about you!" That must have sounded so mean. I didn't mean it to, but I'd be lying if I said that I'm not a little bit put off by her approaching me with no warning. 

"That's alright. Did the two of you have a nice chat with Roger? I saw the three of you walk off together. It must be hard, losing someone you were so close to. You all must have had a lot to talk about." I'm suddenly really grateful to Roger for following us. If he hadn't what appeared to her to be an innocent gathering of loved ones of the deceased would have been seen for what it was: a reunion between two lovers that surely would have made her feel like she'd been shot through the heart.

"Yes, we did, thank you. Like I said we haven't seen one another in a long time. I left them to talk to one another privately; they've got a lot to say to one another that I don't really need to be part of." 

"I understand. Being in a band together is totally different from being in a relationship. You and David were together for a time, weren't you?"

"Oh. Um, yes. We were together for about 16 years, actually. I'm sorry, I have had a good time talking to you, but I'm looking to go home for the night and I'd like to say goodbye to Syd's sister and nephew. It was so nice meeting you. David is very lucky." It'll be sad not to get to speak to the other guys, but now I really need to leave immediately. I don't really want to be stuck in this room being watched like prey. 

She smiles at me, but I can see there's something else behind her eyes. I wonder what she's thinking. She didn't know how long David and I had been together: he hadn't told her. That's exactly how it had been for me; I'd never revealed to the men and women I'd been involved with very much about David because I was afraid if I did they'd know I was still in love with him. The fact that it had been the same way for him warmed my heart, but also broke it for his wife. 

"Why, thank you. I'm sad we couldn't get to know one another better. Maybe sometime you could come visit us?" That's ballsy. I'd never invite a boyfriend's serious ex out to stay with him and I. She has to be testing me. There's no way she's serious.

"That's very nice. Thank you. I'll consider that. You have a nice evening, now." I smile half-heartedly and half sprint away from that conversation before it starts to get really awkward for everyone. Finally I'm over by where Rosemary is sitting, and I turn back to see David's wife is still sizing me up from across the room. Scrutinizing me. She knows something. I place my hand on Rosemary's shoulder to get attention, and take one last look at Syd's beautiful urn sitting there on display for everyone. There are way too many people here: Syd wouldn't like it. 

Some people wonder why I chose to help take care of Syd at the end of his life, and I have to be honest and say that at the time, I didn't know. Syd hurt me more than anyone ever had or even since has. What he put me through left lasting scars on my heart and soul: scars that can't seem to fade all the way (not to mention the PTSD). They're cuts deep enough to remain until the day I die, but I couldn't hate Syd anymore. I had to let it go. It was keeping me stuck there in that pain, and I just didn't want to live with the weight of my anger and pain anymore. I knew Syd was sick soon after we got together. He was so disorganized after a point. Couldn't remember anything, or find the motivation to do anything, didn't want to talk to anyone but me and occasionally Roger...the behavior became more and more disturbing as time went on. I kick myself for staying, but I was really young, and I thought I could help him heal. That was one of the biggest mistakes I ever made. I wish often that David had just signed his name on that note. It would've spared me a lot of misery. 

Accepting that Syd's brain went off the rails on him, and that he was not in control of himself, and wasn't consciously trying to hurt me helped me move on. When he called I really almost just hung up on him, but my gut feeling told me to listen. Plus I had just retired, and didn't have much to do. Taking care of Syd helped me feel like I had a purpose, and a family. It was obvious he had spent years beating himself up for what happened during that entire time in his life: everything he'd done to his band, his friends, his family, me, and most importantly himself. When I arrived at his house his reaction to seeing me shattered my heart. With that haunted look he's so famous for (that look Roger wrote about in at least two songs I can remember) all over his face, his hand began to shake until he dropped his glass of water on the floor. Then he fell on his knees and sobbed. I stopped being afraid of him after that. But I didn't expect to grow to love him again. That was one thing I went into our reunion not expecting. 

Thinking of Syd, I touch the gold star necklace that sits right in the middle of my collarbone.

Back to reality. 

"Hi Rosemary...I'm going to call it a night. I'm sorry. I'm just feeling really overwhelmed by this all. It's really hard to take in, and I think I need to be by myself for the evening. Is that alright?" Rosemary smiles brightly at me and pats my hand, her kind eyes shining with sympathetic reassurance. I hate that I'm lying to her. And I hate even more that this is happening here. I'm pretty disgusted with myself, almost to the point of wanting to call it off. Am I disrespecting Syd?

"Of course, Maisie. You've already given so much." With that we kiss on the cheek and I turn to leave, but when I turn my head, David's wife turns hers also. I can't tell for sure, but she looks suspicious. It's really creeping me out. I smile and wave, but then turn back and finally walk away.


	11. Roger - Cambridge, September 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger speaks with Maisie, and old feelings begin to bubble, but as far as we know, all he sees is sex.

I'm almost certain that David's become bored with my prattling. His eyes are glazing over. Lost in thought, perhaps? I have to admit I'm the tiniest bit amused by the gravity of the entire situation. Is that mean? I don't know. I don't particularly care, really. They'll have a good time, and I'll know that I helped grant Syd's wish for Maisie, which will take a bit of a load off my conscience.

"Hi, guys." Maisie happens to walk in, knocking on the door frame as she enters. David looks up at her, and his face glows like an old retro neon sign that says "MAISIE". What a fool. She steps into our circle, her hands on her hips.

"Maisie, welcome back," I spit pleasantly. It's not that I don't welcome her presence. I don't know what my problem is. I'm feeling surly at the moment, I suppose. Something about her being here is setting off feelings of anxiety, or something else, I don't know. She nods at me with a curtness that even I find to be cutting. 

"Hi, Roger. David, I'm going to get going. Let me give you my phone number so you can text me when you're on your way to the hotel. I think it would be best if I left before you did." I turn away to give them some privacy when I see David reach his hand out and tuck a few strands of Maisie's hair behind her ear. Then I remember: I've got to tell Maisie everything Syd said. That was part of this whole thing. 

"Excuse me, my friends. I've got to talk to Maisie, too, so maybe instead of leaving this moment would you stay for awhile? David, you'd be wise to head back to the service." He nods, kisses Maisie gently on the forehead and waves to me as he walks out. 

"You needed to talk to me?" 

"Yeah. You see, as much as I wish I'd done this completely out of the kindness of my own heart, if I said that it wouldn't be the truth. There's more to this than that. I do feel a lot of guilt, though, and feel I owe it to you so there's some kindness in there, I hope. The truth is that I am doing this mostly for Syd." I see her pretty brown eyes widen like she doesn't understand. It warms my heart a little bit. There was always those beautiful eyes. 

I have to admit, I still mostly go for women younger than I am. I don't prefer them: I find them vapid and shallow more often than not. I go for them because they're easy, and maybe I'm insecure in my masculinity and unable to accept my own aging. 

Maisie is such a beautiful woman in her later age that I want to call her terrifying, but she's far from terrifying. I'm terrified of her. There's something about a woman your own age who is still so attractive like that, something that outshines the beauty of any younger woman. Suddenly my 40 year old wife doesn't seem like much. Don't do this now, you idiot. Don't do this. It's not worth it.

Still, though, she does look so good. She's still got that curvy figure, small waist but big hips. She must work out. She's definitely got a bit of a tummy, but who doesn't at our age? But other than that Maisie looks incredible. 

I wonder how Syd went six months without wanting to have sex with this woman. I'd happily take her to bed. The last time we fucked, that must have been almost 40 years ago now, it was wild. If I remember correctly she let me go at her in her ass, and she really liked that. Maisie was great in bed. So eager to please, so willing to learn. Now that I don't have to teach her everything I bet she'd be a whole lot of fun. Not realistic, though. Maisie hates me. I mean she really hates me. The kind of hate that if I could turn it to lust somehow would result in a really, really good time. Oh, well.

"For Syd? Why would he want David and I to be together?"

"Well, I talked to Syd about a week before he passed, you see. Of course, we talked about a lot of things, but I won't bore you with those details."

"Okay…" Maisie looks so pensive. It seems like she thinks I'm going to deliver some kind of bad news. 

"Syd loved you, Maisie."

"I know he did." 

"No, I don't think you do. What he told me is that he knew you didn't and couldn't love him anymore. It was very painful for him, but he accepted that he couldn't have changed your mind. He knew you still loved David, though." She blushes innocently and looks down at the ground as if she's ashamed that she couldn't summon her old feelings, or is that it? Is there something here I don't know? The truth is that Syd didn't blame her or resent her for how she felt. He never expected that she'd ever return his feelings, and though he never let go of the last shred of his hope he never held on to any more than that. Syd knew deep down that he'd killed any chance of any kind of romantic reunion. I'm not sure, however, if there were any intimate interactions between them while Maisie was there. Syd wouldn't give me an answer, and I never pressed him. 

"Yes, I do…"

"He asked me to promise him that if you and David met again, and it seemed like you two still had feelings for one another, that I find a way to make sure you could be together. He wanted to make sure that you were loved the way he wished he could have loved you." I see her eyes fill with tears, and I hold open my arms to maybe give her a hug if she'd like one. Her face twists into a glare of disgust at first, but as she breaks down she does let me calm her for a few minutes, but I go out of my way to make sure that she knows I have absolutely no ulterior motive. I shouldn't have to do that, but the mistrust she feels is entirely my fault.

I mean, I don't have an ulterior motive, I don't think, but she feels really good, too. She feels as good as she looks. God, I'd give anything to get ten minutes. Damn it, Roger, you're always horny.

Not just that, though, there's more to it. I used to have this feeling when she and I were together for that brief time, and it's one of the things that ultimately led me to throw her out. Whatever it was, it sent me into a panic. And here it is, again. 

She pulls away and I pat her shoulder. Maisie's got such a good soul; it's a shame that she had a rough start. If I could go back I would have left her alone, probably. She was very beautiful, and very naive. I picked up on that right away. I remember exactly how I'd approached her, too. I was such a cocky little shit then. 

By the end of our conversation I'll have your phone number, just so you know, I confidently spouted as I sidled up beside her. I'd put her arm through mine and introduced myself. She was my moldable bit of putty after that. I had her under my control from that moment. And then finding out she was American was what sealed the deal. American girls love British boys, and British boys love American girls. I wouldn't have done it if I could go back now, though. 

She wipes her tears away and pulls back, and I look at her one time and find her eyes are friendly, warm, almost flirtatious. Like she knew she was making me nervous, and she liked it. It will be a little difficult to forget that look. She says her goodbyes, and then she leaves to go gather her things. I've been wracking my brain thinking of a good cover story and decide I'll ask Nick and Rick to act as if we're having a mini reunion tonight and will probably just end up crashing at my hotel. If they agree it'll go flawlessly. There's no way David's wife could possibly find anything out.

They've kind of been standing in one another's orbit all night as their wives and friends have cycled in and out. Always the odd men out, those two. Not pretty like Syd and David, and not a major asshole attention seeker like me, they kind of slipped under the radar of fame, but I think at least Nick wasn't particularly unhappy. I wander toward them, and wait until some others have parted to ask them this favor. 

"Hey, guys. Would you want to do me and Syd a big favor?" Their ears perk up with interest.

"Depends on what it is, mate," Nick says. 

"I'm going to check into another hotel. David and Maisie need to use mine…" they both raise their eyebrows. I can see the judgment written all over their faces.

"What does this have to do with us?"

"I'm going to tell David's wife that the four of us will be having a short reunion tonight. Of course we won't be, unless the two of you would like to join me somewhere, but I desperately need a cover story." To make a long story short it takes some convincing, but both of them agree to go along with our naughty plot. I scan the room, looking for David to formally "invite" him out with us. I see him in the corner with his wife, who doesn't necessarily look overjoyed. Now would probably be the best time to step in.


	12. David - Cambridge, September 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David's wife seems to understand that things are more than what she'd been told, and David, desperate to protect their privacy and refusing to let her suspicion ruin his evening (he has time for it tomorrow), quickly shuts down her questioning. How long can it remain a secret?

"I met Maisie just now. She's very beautiful, and she's really nice. It's a shame you never introduced us." Ouch. That sentence was dripping with venom. 

"I'm sorry, hon, it must have slipped my mind. It's a really overwhelming occasion, and all." Her eyes narrow on me: that's not all I have to say to you about this.

"Also interesting that I had no idea you were together for 16 years, David."

"I don't think...I don't think this is the best place to discuss this." 

"I suppose you're right. Well, then, David, I think we should discuss it when we get home." Whenever she uses my name multiple times in the same conversation she's definitely angry at me. As I open my mouth to respond I see Roger walking toward me. He slaps his hand onto my shoulder and grips it. 

"Hello, my dear, how are you doing?," He asks as he reaches out to give my wife a hug and small kiss on the cheek. She reciprocates, and then Roger slaps me on the back. 

"Well, considering the occasion I think everyone is doing well, right, David?" I nod my head. I'm becoming increasingly worried, but I confess it's not enough to keep me from Maisie. I'm not going to give up this chance. If I don't take it now I may never get it again. My guilty conscience will have to wait. I am intent upon enjoying my evening with her.

"Listen, I'm stealing your husband for the evening. The four of us are going to have a small reunion and because I'm certain we'll be drinking quite a bit everyone's going to crash in my hotel room. Just like the old days, buddy, eh?" To think that it would be this guy who instrumented the reunion between my lost love and I is mind blowing. Roger and I had and have a very spotty and estranged relationship if you couldn't tell. Creative and personality differences have made both a working relationship and a friendship nigh impossible, but it isn't out of the realm of possibility that he and I would reunite after the death of a bandmate. It's not out of the realm of possibility at all….right?

"That sounds very nice. I'm happy you two have been able to put your differences aside for a night. It's no problem for me. I'll hang out in our hotel room and catch up on some reading." Her eyes again burn a hole through me.

It's not that I don't love my wife: I do. I love her very much, and we have a good, not great, marriage. I'm happy enough, I really am. Probably if I could let go of Maisie we'd have a great marriage, but I've never been able to love my wife as much as I love Maisie. It's not for lack of trying. I've tried for years now to fall in love with her the same way, but I've never been able to hack it. I've tried, and I've lied to myself and to her, but nothing ever changes. There's a hole in my heart that no one but Maisie can fill. All trying to love my wife more has done to me is make me love her less. Truthfully, I think she deserves better than a guy who's so hung up on his ex that he can't love her the way she deserves to be loved. I'll never divorce her, though. I'm not miserable, and it would be too hard on my children.

"And don't worry about transportation. I'll drive him around. We aren't leaving just yet, though. There's still, what, a half hour left of this? I think I owe it to Syd to stay until the end." I hate this nonsense that everyone spouts about owing this or that to Syd or his memory. He was garbage. I know he was sick; I still only feel bad enough about thinking so that I barely ever admit to it. But the thoughts are there. I don't really care if he changed at the end of his life, either. That's great for him, it really is, and for his sister and nephew. But no one else should feel they owe Syd anything, especially Maisie. Imagine feeling you owe something to the person who traumatized you.

I'll mingle a bit longer, but I'm afraid of the time dragging. I'm so excited to be with Maisie again that it only makes sense it'll feel like forever before she's finally stripped bare and lying in my arms.


	13. Syd - Cambridge, January 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Syd timidly tests boundaries, and Maisie has some fantastic news for him. Could they become something more?

Maisie's been here for three days. It was really very awkward at first, unfortunately, but now we've settled into a routine and a rapport with one another. She smiles at me again now, and I can make her laugh again just like it used to be. Well, it isn't just like it used to be, as I sadly just found out. 

She was sitting on the other side of the couch from me, and I'd moved closer to her, thinking maybe she'd pity me enough to let me put my arm around her shoulder. I tried, and she let me stay for a few minutes. I felt relieved, and warm, and I think she knew that so she didn't retreat right away. I hoped maybe she'd lean into me, only for a few minutes. I really didn't expect to try to take it any farther; I just wanted some human contact. I just wanted to hold her.

She hadn't struggled against me, and so I tried to pull her closer, but she pulled away and placed my hand back down on my lap...not harshly, just enough to let me know her limit. Then she stood up and looked at me sternly, with her hands on her hips. That stern look: I remember it clearly and with affection. Always she'd use it when I was pushing boundaries and she wanted to scold me, but she was never too angry. Maisie never got angry with me. 

"Too soon, Syd, okay?" 

"I understand, Maisie. I'm sorry. I won't try it again."

"If I want that I'll tell you, but until I tell you so I don't want that. I'm here, and that was hard enough. You have to understand …" 

"I know what I did. I just thought … since it's been a long time maybe you'd take pity on me. I'm sorry I thought wrong. I won't touch you again unless you ask me to." 

"You don't need to apologize, but please understand I'm not here to rekindle any old flames with you. I'm here so before you pass we can make amends with one another. Speaking of which, by the way…" She takes her hands off her hips and sits down next to me, where she takes my hand and I smile gratefully. From now on I won't do anything, but if she initiates any kind of physical contact with me I'll just happily oblige her. 

"Is something wrong?" I'm afraid she's going to leave.

"Rosemary and I talked, and she asked me to stay for awhile to help care for you. She said that you've been in a healthier state of mind since we've been spending time together than you had been in years, and said she felt you deserved that at the end of your life. I have to be honest, Syd, I told her I couldn't give her an answer just yet. You and I have some things to talk about first if we are going to do things that way." She might stay here to help take care of me? There's no way. I must be dreaming. There's nothing more I could have asked for except maybe for Roger to come visit me, alone, without that careless and cruel David Gilmour with him. Maybe I'll call Roger too, but then again, that might hurt Maisie's feelings, so maybe not. She doesn't care much for Roger. He was very mean to her. I don't blame her. Roger is mean to a lot of people.

"Oh, Maisie, you'll stay, won't you?" She smiles half-heartedly at me. I think she wants to. Maisie told me before that she feels like she has no purpose now that she's got no job, and since she is estranged from her cousins and she has no siblings, she feels like she doesn't have much besides her friends keeping her where she is. I want to help her feel like she has a purpose and maybe I can be her family. It's the least I can do.

"I think I might, but I just wanted to make a few things clear first." I look down at her hand in mine and feel warm and full and like I can do anything. 

"Anything. If you have a rule, I'll abide by it. As long as you'll stay." 

"Like I said before...I'm not here to be your girlfriend again, alright?" I look down again at our hands clasping one another, and wonder why she'd let me hold her hand if she didn't want anything to happen between us, but I don't care. If that's not what she wants then I won't try to make it that way. I wish it was what she wanted, though. I messed everything up real bad, I did.

"I know, Maisie." 

"I'm glad that you know that. If I want anything like that I'll tell you, okay? There will never be any mystery here. You won't have to wonder. I promise." She promises me that, and I believe she means it, but I do wonder. Maybe it isn't wondering, but rather wishful thinking. I must confess I snuck into the guest room last night to watch her sleep. It had just been so long since those days when she'd sleep peacefully next to me, and I'd lie awake, stroking her hair and pulling song lyrics out of the feelings I felt while she slept with her hand on my chest. I used to love to watch Maisie sleep years ago, but I'd never told her I'd done it. I know if I told her that I did it last night she'd be really mad at me, so I'm not going to tell her, but I wish I could. I wish I could tell her how she still looks so sweet with her eyes closed, totally at peace, like she has no worries or stress, and how the only things I felt while she lie there were love and regret.

"So is that your only rule?"

"No. There's something else." I look straight at her, waiting for her to finish, and she blushes and stumbles over her sentence. I think I've thrown her off guard. I stifle a small laugh at her expense, and seeing that, she lets out a laugh of her own. I feel young again.

"Anything."

"Stop saying you're sorry."


	14. David's Wife - Cambridge, September 2006

If David thought I didn't notice that look he's a real idiot. I knew it was Maisie before anyone had to tell me, which one of David's old bandmates, the cuter one, did. But you know who didn't tell me?

My husband. The man who I had six kids for. Gave birth to six children. Raised six children, sometimes by myself. Changed diapers, fed meals...I couldn't go anywhere or do anything. Forget friends. Forget seeing anyone but their faces every day. All because David just loved the idea of being a dad. He loved all the fun parts. I never got much of the fun parts.

This asshole didn't introduce me to his apparently serious ex girlfriend he was with for almost 20 years. Who does that? He knows about all my exes. It's despicable.

And there she is looking all dressed to the nines and making a substandard figure look so, so good. Don't kid yourself, it's not substandard. She's clearly in good shape, she's just got more meat on her bones than me. The nerve of her locking eyes with my husband at a funeral. He didn't even look at me, forget actually saying where he was going, before he walked right over to her. And then they shared that look at the back of the room and acted like I didn't exist. Just forgot I was there. 

Maisie's never had any kids. Never even been married. I can't see anything physically wrong with her except a cute quirky bump in her nose, but it makes her look Roman, not ugly. She retired early from a high paying job in political analysis for some website. She traveled, I learned. I got all this information from that cute keyboardist. He sang like a bird, all I had to do was flirt the littlest bit. She lived a rich and interesting life. She was bordering on glamorous especially for a woman so small. I see what he saw in her, but that makes it so much worse.

I'm suspicious as hell over this reunion thing. Does he really think that I completely buy it? Why'd I let him go?

To try and see if he'd really do it. I'll know. But I won't say anything. 

The worst part of this is that she wasn't taking time trying to lure my husband away. I literally can't blame her. He approached her. She didn't do or say anything. I could only blame her if she was sniffing around deliberately trying to take his eyes off me, but she's never come around. She's never spoken to David since she moved out, I'd heard. 

I don't blame her for loving my husband and wanting him back. He's wonderful. He's so supportive and attentive and brilliant and interesting. Any woman would want to be with him, and many did. I thought I was the lucky chosen woman. I guess I was just the next best thing. I can't even tell you how pissed off I am. I'm fuming with disgust.

And the conversation we had? I don't blame May (Maisie is such a childish name, and she should stop using it) for wanting to get away from me. If I were her I'd certainly want to get away from me. 

What pissed me off about that is the way that he had always brushed Maisie off when I brought her up. Why did you tell me that the two of you were only an item for six months before you got bored? I can't fathom keeping a secret like that from you, David. To keep a secret like that. I'm not just angry. I'm really and truly disappointed in you.

And now that song makes sense. It had never made sense. David wrote and played from his heart. We'd certainly never spent the night lying on a beach looking at the sky. Makes sense now. I wonder how many songs have been written for her, how many despairing weepy solos were played that were fueled by her. I'd never considered it. I never knew what kind of pain David carried. He had an okay life growing up, and has a great life right now. He wasn't mentally ill. He never had trouble with women. Nothing. There was nothing.

But I knew there was an intense pain that he wasn't telling me about. 

That's it, isn't it?


	15. Maisie - London, September 2006 - The Hotel

_I'm at the hotel room. Room 317. You don't need a key, don't bother stopping at the front desk. Can't wait to see you._

That was David's text. 

I get out of my rental car and leave the valet to park it. The Bermondsey Square Hotel. Roger always had impeccable taste. This is a gorgeous place. Very modern. I'm not surprised. I'm walking through hallways, into an elevator. The elevator goes up, and so does my heart rate. I wonder, will things be the same for us in bed as they were? Will he still find me attractive naked? 

More importantly, can we guarantee that David's wife has no idea this is going on? I mean I can't act like I care all that much. I haven't even bothered to learn her name. I think I'd just prefer to pretend she doesn't exist for now. David and I have needed one another all these years. Now we're here, and nothing will stop me from enjoying every moment we spend together.

Room 317. This is it. I knock politely on the door, and it's only seconds before David opens it and pulls me in by the hand, and when I'm inside with him he pushes the door closed. He pulls me into him and grasps me tightly with his arms locked around my waist. I sink into his body and turn my face up to get lost in his eyes.

"I thought you'd never get here," he whispers with a laugh.

"I was afraid you wouldn't be here when I came in."

"Nothing could stop me from coming. Nothing." I'm overwhelmed with desire, and I move in to start kissing him passionately, but he smiles at me with that devilish, seductive look I needed to see, and holds me back.

"David, I need you…" He runs his fingers through my hair. Is this real? Twenty years of longing makes me want nothing more than to push him down onto this big bed and let him take me.

"You have no idea how badly I need you, but let's not rush this, Maisie. Let's get reacquainted. Let's enjoy one another." Being so close to him feels as natural as the rolling in of the tides under the full moon. It's as real and as sweet as lemonade on a summer afternoon sipped through a straw while the sun streams through the trees. My stomach is alive with butterflies bumping into my abdominal wall. I'm dizzy. "Let's make this night last." 

"I don't want to get any sleep tonight."

"That's the best part, my love. That way when we wake up in the morning we'll know we weren't dreaming. There's a fully stocked mini bar in here. At first I thought Roger was going to try to seduce a woman in here, too, but I'm pretty sure that he just really likes to drink. What do you say we have a drink?" He pulls a bottle of wine out, knowing I'm not really interested in harder liquor, but I figure I'll surprise him.

"We can have that, of course, but I think I'd like something a little stronger, too. Can we mix drinks?" He rifles through the cabinets to be sure, and pulls out a bunch of things. I watch him: possessed, in need. I'm drawn back to every day we spent together, the fights over housework and money, the laughs and the tears and the quiet evenings reading books. The nights where he would strum his guitar while I would be curled up next to him with a book, and then we'd break out into song, and our impromptu concert would end with a fit of hysterical laughter. I wonder if he shares evenings like that with her ever. Part of me hopes so, but part of me hopes that they're something sacred between he and I. 

I mix us martinis and after I'm done he takes me by the hand and leads me out to the balcony. There's this gorgeous hot tub overlooking the city and it's the perfect kind of late summer evening to get in it and relax for awhile. 

"I didn't bring a bathing suit," I say shyly. He winks at me. 

"Neither did I." As he starts the jets he pulls me in close with one arm and we stare into one another's eyes. If I could absorb him and make him a part of my soul I would. My hands, sliding up his stomach to his chest, start to undo the buttons of his shirt, and I lean into his neck to smell his cologne as I reveal his bare, strong chest. He used to shave it when he was young and shredded, but now he doesn't. He's not hairy, but he's got some silver fuzz that I can more than appreciate. He closes his eyes, and I know he's as ready as I am. I pull away, and he reaches for me but with all the coyness I can muster I slip away and leave him waiting to get our drinks. When I return David has removed his shirt. I hand him his drink and stand in awe of his strength. God, I love him. 

I put my drink down on the side of the hot tub, and he puts his down beside it. I let him unbutton my shirt and slip it off my body, and then I guide his hand to the clasp of my bra, begging him to take it off. He unhooks it and throws it to the side. I stand bare before him, and he moves back to look me over. He smiles at me and I step toward him to unbutton his pants, then I pull them down, and try to pull down my own, but he stops me.

"I'll do that part," he whispers. I let him slip my pants off and he kneels down to remove the lacy thong I slipped on. Feeling his fingertips on my thighs I lean my head back and try not to moan too loudly, but he's heard me. He knows. My underwear is being pulled slowly down my body and I can feel him kissing my thighs, getting dangerously close to my sacred place before the thong finally falls to the ground and I step out of it. David stands up and I do the same: I kneel down and grab hold of his underwear. He still wears the same kind of boxer briefs he did forever ago. They still make him look so good. I peel them off, exposing his girthy, raging erection. 

"Let's get in," I whisper as I do the same and kiss around his thighs, barely avoiding his length, teasing him, trying and succeeding to drive him to madness. I know he desperately wants me to take him in my mouth, and I'm going to.


	16. Syd - Cambridge, February 2006

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: some light non-con in this chapter.

It's been two weeks now. Maisie's still here. I'm so happy to be with her. I know it's wrong, but I sneak in to watch her sleep some nights. I lie awake longing for her until I can't stand it. So far, she has no idea I've been doing it. I feel so guilty. If she knew she'd be really angry. Maybe I should stop.

I swore to myself that I'm going to stop after tonight. She wouldn't like it, and so I won't do it anymore. But for tonight I need her. The way her long silver mane falls in her face is so beautiful. I need to touch her. Just her face. Every day she's here I die a little more inside even though I'm happy she's here. I just want to be close to her.

I reach for her in such a slow and careful way that I'm convinced she won't wake up, and then I gently push her hair out of her face and stroke her cheek and her jawline, and as I reach for her soft, plump lips her eyes open wide. I freeze, my hand still close to her face, and she shoots up out of bed like an arrow shot from a bow.

"What are you doing, Syd?"

"I…." I can't even get any words out. Don't leave me, Maisie….

"You need to tell me what's going on." I break. All the emotions flood through me. I'm not able to maintain any sense of calm. Tears are streaming down my face. I want her so badly, but she doesn't want me. I love her so much, but she doesn't love me. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. Maybe I should tell her I can't take being with her but not really being with her.

"I just…." I try to speak. Nothing comes.

"Don't worry about what you're going to say. Just say it."

"I just want to hold you, Maisie. I only want to hold you for awhile. Nothing more. I don't want anything more than just to be close to you. Just for a few minutes. Please, Maisie. I'm begging. Please, just let me hold you." My words are pathetic and desperate, I know. I feel like a rejected puppy only wanting to please his mistress. I can barely form sentences through the strength of my sobs. "Please. Maisie, please." She shivers, and I see her eyes fill up with tears, and she opens her arms. "Not until you tell me. I won't do anything until you tell me that I can. I shouldn't have...I shouldn't have snuck in here and I shouldn't have watched you or tried to touch you. You asked me not to, I know, but I just…"

"Hold me, Syd. Please." I'm knocked down by the wave of emotion that hits me as I pull her into me fast and squeeze her in such a way that the more I feel all the years of wanting this the tighter I hold her. She's limp in my arms at first, taken by surprise, unsure how to respond, and then she squeezes me, too. I don't care how long it took her to respond. It's only natural. What matters is that she held me, too.

I adore her warmth and the way she still fits in my arms, and the feeling of her pressed against me. I'm overtaken by my love for her: possessed and enraptured. All I want, at my very center, is to be with her, but I'll never say that if I can help it. Just being here in this most intimate of places holding her so tightly is enough for me, but I'll never give up hope that before I die she'll let me kiss her and let me call her mine. I don't want sex. That's cheap, and it doesn't mean all that much. I haven't longed for her body for years, I've longed for her essence. For her smile and her laugh and her compassion and the way she knows exactly where to touch me to calm me. Maybe I'll get even one kiss before I die, but I'm not going to try to get one without asking. I shouldn't have done all of the things I did without asking her: I tried to hold her without asking her, I tried to touch her without asking, and I watched her sleep without asking. I've learned my lesson. I shouldn't hurt my lady like that. I won't hurt my lady like that anymore.

I hold the back of her head and accidentally grip her hair at the root because I'm so excited when she's finally in my arms again. I know I say these things over and over, but you have to understand that I feel these things very deeply and I really need to tell someone, and you obviously are interested in what I have to say. I waited for so long for her to come home to me, and she's here. She came back for me. This is real. All of those nights in my chair staring at my tv, empty inside. Hopeless, lonely nights: that kind of nights where one is reminded exactly how utterly isolated from others that they are. And I'd look back on my life, and how everything has fallen apart, and all of the things I did, and then I'd think about that time back then.

It was senseless, heartless.

I can't forget Maisie's screams and sobs and pleas. Desperate pleas to please let me out, Syd. They're burned into my brain; they torture me only half as cruelly as I tortured her. 

_Please let me out, Syd! Please, baby, let me out of here. I'll come right to you, we'll make it alright. Please, I just want to get out of here. Syd, why won't you answer me? I know you're sitting by the door! I love you, I do. You know I won't go away._

And I wouldn't budge. 

_I'm sorry, Maisie. Someone will take you away from me if I let you out. I'm trying to protect you and protect us. I won't let anyone take you from me. %/em>_

__

I just keep crying. I never wanted to hurt her. Never. I just couldn't bear it if someone took her away, but because I hurt her, David did take her away.

__

I guess I should tell you about how I stalked Maisie, too. I mentioned it, but I haven't really talked about it at all. I knew Maisie was at David's. It was obvious. It was the perfect opportunity that he needed so he could win. It's what I did, too. It was really that simple; I knew Maisie was there, and that she had to come out eventually. She had to. And if I could only talk to her I'd make her see how sorry I was, and maybe she'd come home. So I sat or stood there, and I waited for her to come out. For so long. Too long. I just wanted to see my Maisie, to talk to her, to be near her again. I don't know how she lived like that. It lasted for weeks, so she was probably very scared of me. 

__

I never wanted her to be scared; I only wanted her to come out. I really only wanted to see her once, or talk to her. I never wanted my only one to be afraid of me. But she never came out. I felt so rejected by her. Why did I fuck it all up?

__

Never again. 

__

And now I think back on those lonely nights where I'd eventually tumble down the slippery slope into hell that was thinking about how my senseless and cruel act drove my only one from me. I did that. I did. David didn't take Maisie away, I drove her away. I'd think about it so much, and I would say that I missed her, but saying "missed" is such an understatement it would be a joke. I didn't just miss Maisie, I longed for her. I longed for her so much that it pained me. And I'd sob to myself, or sometimes go into fits, but it always ended with that feeling of emptiness when I realized she'd never come home to me.

__

Maisie never came out. Not once in all those weeks. She didn't come out that time at Abbey Road, either, but I knew she was there because it was Rick's wedding, and all the wives and girlfriends were there. I saw her for one second before anyone said they recognized me, including her, but she barely saw me before David pulled her off into another room and sent Nick's wife in to stay with her. I was heartbroken when she didn't recognize me. Even if she got very fat and changed her hair I would know it was her just by her eyes. She looked so lovely, though, my sweet Maisie. They kept telling me it wasn't her. They wouldn't tell me anything about her. But I knew. I cried then when they wouldn't let my Maisie come out to talk to me. I begged for her. I yelled for her, I may have even howled for her, wailed for her. Roger had to take me out of the room because nothing could calm me when I realized no one would let me see her, and that she wouldn't come out. 

__

"I'm sorry. Please don't make me let go. Not yet." She leans her head on my shoulder. She's not pushing me away! Even though I made a mistake she isn't pushing me away. I'm so happy she's back. I'm so happy my Maisie is home. She's home where she belongs: with me. 

__

"We can sleep this way tonight because it's late, and we both need to get some sleep. Just stay here. And Syd, please don't ever do that again. That made me very uncomfortable, and I really don't like it. If you want me to stay with you then you cannot treat me with disrespect." Oh, that feels like a smack. I didn't mean to disrespect her...I just wanted to be close to her. Is it wrong to want to be so close to your loved one all the time? It shouldn't be. But...I shouldn't have been doing that to her. She's right to scold me.

__

"I won't do it again, Wendy. I promise you. I know it's bad to do things without asking you first." A full and beautifully arched dark brown eyebrow raises above her walnut eyes and her luscious lips twist into a friendly smile. I'm just lucky that Maisie never gets mad at me. Rosemary and mum got angry at me, but Rosemary less so than mum. And I would be angry with me too. I am angry with me. But Maisie is never angry, and I like how she tells me what she needs. That way, I can always make her happy. 

__

When Maisie looks at me like that it makes me feel so sad. But she always gets nervous when I look into her eyes for too long, and looks away. It's okay. It's not my fault; Maisie is shy like a sweet cinnamon brown bunny, but I think maybe it's only around men. I think she is different with her friends. After all...she has made quite a life for herself, and she doesn't ever live with men now. I know she has lovers, but she lives with her girl friends.

__

I won't give up on looking at my beautiful darling because I know she'll look back up at me.

__

She does. I won't stare at her anymore. If Maisie were scared of me it would just shatter my heart. A man should always make the woman he loves feel safe.

__

Her eyes soften when she sees the way I know I'm looking at her. That night we slept together, my arms wrapped tightly around her from behind, her back and bottom curled perfectly against my chest and stomach. She slept peacefully. For the first time in many years, so did I.

__


	17. Roger - Cambridge, 1967 - The Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Witness Roger and Maisie's first meeting.

_It's a rare sunny day. Some clouds. Walking down the street, minding my own business, not really thinking about much. Ping. I look. There's a real cute chick down there. Looks like fun. She's walking somewhere. Think I'll follow. Look at her, she's real cute. Not sexy, maybe. Cute. A nice girl. Who doesn't like to play with a nice girl?_

_I can get this one no problem. She's shy, I bet. Maybe she's never kissed a boy. Wouldn't that be sweet? She's noticed me. No going back now. I'm approaching because why not, I've got nothing better to do. _

_Wow, what pretty eyes. Big brown eyes. I slide up next to her. What a smile, too. Wow. Her cheeks turned so pink just now that it looked like a rose bloomed on her face._

_"Just so you know, I'll have your number by the end of this conversation." And her number I have. _

_She's American, too. 19 years old, sent away to live with her aunt and uncle by her shitty parents. She's totally innocent. Has no idea who I am, which is kind of nice. Groupies get very old after awhile. It's not you they like, it's what you represent to them. That's boring. It's worth it a lot of the time for the great sex, though. Just doesn't feel good after, but that's what booze is for. _

_She's definitely a virgin. I can smell it on her: the way she's so shy about talking to me that she has trouble making eye contact and keeps stumbling over her words. _

_We'll be changing that. It's real bloody cute, though._

_Maisie is the name. That's such a virgin's name. _

_Just got off the phone. She's coming round my place tomorrow. She can't even fathom what I plan to do to her. And don't worry - she'll be willing. I'd never play with an unwilling girl. Who wants that? I'll have her hooked in a few hours. She'll go crazy for me. I'll take her curvy little body to the limit. Turn her into my little sex kitten. I'm so fucking hard. She's so alluring I can't wait to experience her. _

_Guess we'll see how that goes. I'm betting I get a kiss tomorrow at least. She might be too shy to let me take her on our first visit. Not all girls are, but this one sure is. Oh, but I'll get there. I'll definitely get there. She won't know what hit her before her legs are open and her body is waiting to receive me. _


	18. David - London, September 2006 - The Hotel

I look across the hot tub and see Maisie, her breasts bobbing in the water, her beautiful pale skin bathed in silver moonlight. I'm falling in love all over again, if that was even possible. She looks me over, too. I'm a little embarrassed by how chubby I've gotten, but she seems to like me the way I am. I'd like to think I still look good. Didn't really believe it until I felt her hands and lips on my body. 

I'd love to move across and sit next to her and start kissing her, gradually leading us further until we are fully absorbed in our pleasure. But I'd rather take this slow and tease her, excite her a little bit. Plus we have so much to talk about, so I think we should talk for awhile. I hate to waste an erection, but I don't really have any problems in that arena (yet, knock on wood) so I'll without a doubt be able to get it back. 

"What have you been doing for the past 20 years?"

"I've done a lot in the past 20 years. Traveled, got my dream job, seen so many famous places, got to have an op-ed featured in the New York Times." Wow, she's led the kind of life I wished she would. I wonder how many lovers she's taken, but I won't ask. It's not important. She could have been with 100 people since she left me and it wouldn't put even a dent in my desire for her. 

I knew about the article in the Times, by the way. Oddly enough it was Nick that called me to tell me about it, and then sent me a clipping of it attached to a letter so I could read it and keep it. It's in my lockbox with all of my memories of her...things I've kept just as reminders for when I'm really missing her.

"Well, I think you have an idea of what I've been doing." I chuckle, and she smiles.

"I do. I've been listening to your music this entire time. I've got every album." I'm so touched, and secretly I'd wished she was listening to me...I wrote that song about her. On An Island. It's about a night we snuck off away from the guys and their wives to a secret spot on the California coast and laid in the cool white sand, letting the tide kiss our feet, and looked at the stars. We laughed and we acted like kids and I've never let go of that moment. I wrote High Hopes, at least some parts of it, about her, too, also Sorrow and The Blue. But mostly I needed her to be able to tell that all my sadness and longing came out in my guitar. She has to know; she always knew what I was trying to say.

"You do?"

"Yes. I love that song On An Island. I knew exactly what it was about the first time I heard it. Your songs fill me with so many feelings, David. Good and bad. And only bad in the way that it reminds me that I'll never be able to recreate that night." 

"Who says?" She stares into my eyes, and I drink her in, hoping she'll see me again after tonight, but fully prepared for her to leave me again. I don't think I can let her, though. I'll have no choice but to persist until she gives in to me and never walks away again. The only reason I never got Maisie back is I never tried to. Kick myself for that, too. If I could do it differently I'd have stayed local or moved to the US so I could beg and plead and promise until she would take me back. I'd stay home every chance I got, and take her with me when I had to leave. I shouldn't have ever let Maisie get away. It's the biggest regret I've ever had. I've lived a good life, but without Maisie it's all felt a little unsatisfying, like I couldn't fully enjoy it.

"Well, I guess I just kind of figured that this isn't something you'd want to do regularly. I can imagine that this is really hard for you."

"In what way would it be hard for me?" I'm genuinely curious, although I think I understand what she's trying to say. It isn't hard. This isn't hard for me at all. It wasn't even hard to come to the decision to do this. That is what I find difficult, I think, that making the decision to violate my marriage vows and to disrespect my wife was just so easy. 

"Well, I assume you aren't gonna be telling your wife about it." 

"I'm not. That's for sure." She smiles half-heartedly at me. I wish I never got married. I wish I had followed my heart and chased her. If I had tried she'd be with me right now. 

"Let's just not focus on this for now. We've got too much to fit into one night." With that we toast: to one another, to our rediscovering our love, to our continued health and happiness, and we both take big sips and laugh as we both feel the taste of alcohol burning our throats. 

Then we talk for about an hour. I really want to listen more than talk. I don't consider my life all that interesting, truthfully. Touring is fun when you're young and have a ton of energy, but when you get into your golden years it becomes such a pain in the ass, emphasis on the pain. So I don't really want to talk about touring. I don't really want to talk about my life at all. But I guess I have to.

So I do. I tell her all about my kids, the places I've seen, the people I've met, what I do in my spare time. I tell her everything but anything about my wife. Until she asks.

"David, why haven't you said anything about your wife?" Ugh. That look she gets when she's calling me on my shit. 

"Because I only want to think about you. I don't want to talk about anyone else you may have, either. I don't want to talk about her or my children or any of that. I want to talk about everything else but other people. I want to enjoy you, only you. Plus it just feels bad to talk about all that now." We share a knowing look, the one we always shared when one of us was conceding and didn't want to admit it. 

"Okay."

"Now I want to hear all about your life. What have you been doing? Where have you been? What have you seen?" 

She told me so much that was so fascinating. Italy, the Rocky Mountains, Japan, China, Russia. The most desolate parts of Canada. She always loved those places that were a whole lot of nothing. That's why she moved to Maine, she said. She'd spent time in New York City and Los Angeles and Washington DC and Denver. Her op-ed in the Times earned a lot of praise. She had a whole group of girlfriends, all older divorced or unmarried women, who she went on vacations with and lived with. Her life sounds so full. Where would I even fit? 

Our conversation comes to a natural close, and a prolonged look of desire passes between us. I revel in the energy awhile before I pull her towards me by her hand. She glides so easily through the water. I pull her into my lap, and I guide her face up to look into my own. The moon pours over her face, giving her milky skin an ethereal, unearthly glow. With her silver hair she looks like a strange beautiful night angel. Her eyes glow like black diamonds and they are so clear I can almost see my reflection in them. 

"I've been dreaming of this for a long, long time. Let's not talk anymore. How can you stand it any longer?"

"I can't." She closes her eyes and I pull her face toward mine, and before we kiss I look down at her, her face so relaxed and happy. I rub my thumb over her eyelids and her cheek and then tilt her head up by her jaw. Our lips touch, and they dance together. We're one again, tethered by the desire in our kisses, now becoming deeper, more passionate, more alive.

I grip her hair at the root, she leans her head back and lets out a small cry of delight, and I tilt her head up and kiss all over her neck. She holds onto my hair, trying desperately to pull me closer, and she begins to writhe. Now's the time. I stand up and scoop her up into my arms, carrying her like she's Jane to my Tarzan, and I'm carrying her off to have my way with her. She wraps both her arms around my neck and smiles as I gently toss her onto the luxurious bed we are about to destroy.


	19. David's Wife - Cambridge, September 2006 - Her Hotel

Would love to be able to just focus on this book, but I'm just too pissed off. I feel like I'm being silly. David's probably just with his friends reminiscing, playing music and having a good time. Then I think…

Since when did David look so happy about spending time with Roger Waters? I mean it's not like they're alone, the other two are with them, so maybe that's why. But still...I can't shake the feeling that something is off. It could be innocent. Maybe Maisie just tagged along. But if she had tagged along, why weren't any of the wives invited? You'd think if one woman was allowed to be there the women who were actually married to the men would be welcome, too. Who knows. She's probably not even there. David wouldn't actually do anything like that to me. He's too good. I know him.

Don't I? I mean, if I didn't know about such a long relationship, the longest he'd had before me, then what else don't I know? Is there a child running around I don't know about? What else could he possibly be keeping from me? What else don't I know?

Could it be possible that David's actually snuck off with his old girlfriend and is currently cheating on me? I don't think so. He wouldn't actually do that. David has never cheated on me. He's so loving and devoted. He wouldn't do it. 

Does he still love her? Is that why he can't sleep sometimes? Does he stay up all night thinking of her? I used to feel that way about him, back when we were dating. I never told him, though, because somehow I didn't think he felt that way about me. I guess he didn't. I was right. I've spent years trying so hard to convince myself that David needs me, adores me, and loves me as much as I do him. I truly think my husband is the most wonderful man in the world. He's kind, and good… he'd never tell Roger that he'd set Syd up with royalty payments even though he couldn't stand him. Why didn't David like Syd, anyway? He likes most people. But years of trying to deceive myself into believing David was as in love with me as I am with him has left me pretty exhausted, and I can't help feeling like I can let go of that emotional drain now: now that I know for sure he never has been. It feels better, honestly. When I admit it I feel lighter. More at ease.

David actually does love another woman more than he loves me. Yet I'm the one he married. Why? And I could still be wrong. I might be exaggerating the whole thing. But the story I've been told makes absolutely no sense. What would cause someone to condense a 16 year relationship to a six month fling? I've never heard of anyone doing that before. Wouldn't it be to his credit that he'd made a relationship last for 16 years? I feel like that's something I'd mention early on. Like, hey look, I am in this for the long haul. It's strange that he'd lie about that, isn't it? 

My stomach aches. I'm most likely going to cry myself to sleep tonight.


	20. Syd - Cambridge, March 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the sweetest scene in the entire thing, guys

In the past three days Maisie's asked me into her bed twice. We're not doing anything indecent, though. She lets me sleep with her. This morning I woke up, my body so close to hers, and thought maybe I'd go for a bike ride and maybe buy something to make her for breakfast. She makes me breakfast every morning. For a long time I only ate terrible food: instant meals that I'd end up burning a lot of the time, but since she's been here she's been cooking for me, and I feel so much better. It's been awhile since I was able to go out for a ride on my bike.

I'm riding, enjoying the morning air, and I see two of the local boys run after me. They're such nice kids, all of those boys. I play with them sometimes when I have the energy. These two are Luke and Sam. 

"Hi, Mr. Barrett! Where are you going today? Do you have time to play ball?" 

"Hello, boys. I don't have time today, unfortunately." I stop my bike and smile at them. "Maybe I will later, though. It's possible. I'm just going for a short ride now, and then I have to get home."

"Aw, man. Why do you have to go home so bad?"

"You'll understand in a few years when you meet a nice girl you really like." They tease me, calling after me and making kissing sounds. Kids are so much fun. I think that's part of what's kept me alive this long. I wave goodbye and continue along until I see Kathy, my friend who runs a coffee shop. She's about to go inside, and so I follow, figuring I'll have a cup of coffee here and talk to her for awhile and tell her about Maisie. 

"Hi, Kathy!"

"Why, Roger. It's nice to see you out and about, isn't it? It's been at least a week since anybody's seen you!" She pats me on the back and gets coffee started. I look over to where the bookshelf is, by the windows, and I see a display of some bouquets of flowers. Oh, I have to buy one for Maisie. There's no doubt about that. I'd be angry at myself if I left without them, especially because they have her orange daylilies.

"Kathy, how much is that bouquet of flowers?" I point to the one with the orange lilies. Maybe she doesn't still like those flowers, but she always did when we were young. They grow wild, and I used to pick them for her and sometimes tie them in her hair. She looked like an orange flower fairy. I knew even Roger admired her with those flowers in her hair. I may have been naughty and started doing it before she was even broken up with him.

I can tell you a secret, too: I think Roger always liked Maisie. I caught him watching her a lot. He avoided talking to her most of the time after they broke up, but I knew he was paying attention. I was crazy, not stupid. Roger only threw Maisie away because he didn't understand how he felt. He did it to me, too. He won't admit it, though.

I haven't shown her yet because it's winter, but I grow those lilies in Rosemary's yard. I used to grow them in my own yard so when Maisie came back she would see a big group of them, and it would make her smile, but I tore them all out after I had a breakdown once. It wasn't even about her, but for some reason, those flowers were the first things I ripped out. Maybe it was the pain I felt about being abandoned and replaced by everyone I loved but my sister. Now I don't keep a garden at my house anymore because I'm afraid I'll do it again, so I have a whole bunch of those flowers there. I'm going to show Maisie sometime and tell her the truth: that I've been growing them for years and years so when she came back I'd be able to pick them for her and tie them in her hair every day if she wanted. 

"15 pounds. Oh, have you met a special lady, Roger?" There's a gleam in her eyes. Everyone knows me as just being alone. I've always been by myself unless I was with my family. So it must be a very big piece of news for Kathy to learn I've met someone. I'm sure others will be surprised if they see me out with Maisie, too.

"Only the most special lady. I'm a lucky man." 

"Who is she?" She pours us both a cup of coffee and sits down across from me. There's a bashful smile creeping across my face as I think of her, my most special lady, and the way that I felt this morning when I woke up and felt her soft belly pad in my hands. Did I mention that I love that? She always had a little one and I never ever stopped thinking that it was just so beautiful, like that painting of Venus and Adonis by Rubens. She kind of looks like that, but more muscular. 

"My lost love." 

"Not Maisie?" If I'm being honest I've told so many of my friends in town about Maisie in one way or another, even just something small. So when I see her eyes get wide I can tell it's because she thought, like I did, that I had always been holding on to a fantasy, and that I'd be waiting forever because Maisie was never, ever coming home. 

"Yes, she's come to stay with me." Kathy smiles and pats me on the arm. Her kindly amber eyes light up when I tell her. She's happy for me, and that makes me feel even better. I think Rosemary isn't happy for me. She doesn't have good things to say about the way Maisie feels about me. She doesn't think Maisie loves me, and that she's only being kind. She's wrong, though, and I'll prove it because if Maisie doesn't love me now one day she will.

Out of everyone in town that I've gotten to know, I think Kathy is my closest friend. I've had Thanksgiving dinner with her family before, and I came here often before I started to feel my health fading. So she knows more than most people how much it means that Maisie's here with me. 

"Good for you, my friend. You're such a good and pure soul. You deserve to have someone to love you." I smile through the pain I feel when I realize that even if I give these flowers to Maisie and I hold her close to me every night she'll still never love me, realistically, no matter what I want. It was so nice of Kathy to say that, but I love Maisie: she doesn't love me. 

"Thanks, Kathy. I'm just so happy, you know? I feel alive again, and that is just so nice." I stay with Kathy for about 15 minutes before I pay for my coffee and the flowers and ride home, and in the process completely forget that I wanted to get something to make for breakfast. I pass Luke and Sam again on the way home, and I wave to them. They giggle at me again as they notice the flowers in my bike's basket. 

I pull up at my house and walk in prepared to put the flowers in a vase and make Maisie breakfast with whatever she's stocked my refrigerator with (she made me get rid of my second one, and all the junk food I kept in it). I can't really cook much of anything, but I hope it'll make her happy anyway. I'm going to try.

When I open the door I can smell bacon frying in the kitchen. She already got up, I guess. Oh, well. I walk into my kitchen, and not only is Maisie awake, she's cooking breakfast and she's laid out my pills in a case next to my plate. It feels so light and warm in my kitchen this morning. I can't help but put my hand over my mouth to hide my stupid smile when I see it. It's not like when my mother took care of me. My mother and I never got along. It's not like with Rosemary, either, because Rosemary has to care for me: she's my family. And it's certainly not like with Ian, who's more like my friend. It's special when Maisie does it because she doesn't have to. I don't know why she wants to, but she does. It never feels like any of them wanted to take care of me...they just sort of did it because it's what was expected of them. But nobody ever went this far because they wanted to. And even after everything I did...all those terrible things I did to her...she still does more out of just the goodness of her heart than anyone else. 

"Maisie? You're up?" I'm a little disappointed. I really wanted to make her breakfast and put the flowers in a vase in the center of the table so she could see them. There will be other days, I think. 

"You're home, Syd. Hi." She turns around, and when she sees the flowers in my hand her face breaks into an exuberant smile, and her eyes shine at me like earthy gems reflecting light. She's so happy. I love it. That's what I got up this morning for; that's what I get up every morning for.

"These are...for you. I bought them before when I was out. I thought maybe they'd make you happy." I hand them to her and turn around to find the vase, when I feel Maisie's arms wrapped around my waist. What a beautiful feeling, my love's arms enfolding me. I turn around, surprised as a deer in headlights, and I throw my arm over her shoulder and look down at her. I know how my eyes must look. There's a relaxed, but intense, hot but sweet look one gets in their eyes when looking at the one they love.

"They do make me happy, Syd. That's so kind. Thank you. You remembered these are my favorite flowers, too." She still loves those flowers! That's what I'd hoped. I watch her standing there in front of my kitchen window, the sun spilling through the curtains, looking down at the lilies as if they were diamonds. I remember the first time we made love, when we were tripping, seeing Maisie sparkling, covered in diamonds...she reminds me of that now, too. 

I put the flowers in a vase with water and she pushes me to sit down in my chair while she fills my plate with bacon and eggs and toast with butter. Breakfast is usually a lot healthier, but sometimes she spoils me. I reach out and rest my hand against her back after she nods at me when I try to make contact, and as she fills my plate I catch her cheeks flushing red when she feels me touching her. It's almost like she didn't want to like it, but does. Is that what's going on? Does she really feel it too? She couldn't. 

"You do too much for me." I squeeze her hand. She brushes me off and pats me on the back. I love the way that she refuses to let herself be appreciated. Not really, but it's who she is...so I love it about her. Even though I wish that she'd let me thrust all of my adoration onto her all the time, I love that she is so kind that she refuses to take it. 

"Now, eat. Please. You need your strength." 

"Maisie, I want to do something for you. What can I do that would let you know my feelings?" I hold out my hand across the table, and she deliberates before she allows me to take hers, and I gently stroke her hand with my thumb. Her eyes soften, and her cheeks flush, and she looks down and away from me. She's always been my shy bunny. 

"You don't have to…" I squeeze her hand a little tighter. She needs to know how amazing she is. She deserves to know that every single day, but I've let her go so long without being told that now I need to do something more than tell her.

"Yes I do. I want you to know I'm a good person now, and that I'd never ever do what I did back then again." 

"I already know that. You don't have to go out of your way."

"I'll think of something. Would you like to go for a walk after breakfast?" We eat breakfast, and I make her laugh a few times, which makes me feel so good, like I can do anything. Do you know I always know what to say to make Maisie laugh, and always did? She laughs easy though so maybe I'm not that funny. She's got the most perfect pretty laugh, too.

When we're done she gets up to clean the table off, but I insist she stay in her seat so I can do it for her. I make sure she stays seated and relaxes. She does so much. Between cooking my meals and making sure I take my pills and making sure I don't turn my house into a sty she does more for me than I could possibly ask, and she never complains. She hasn't complained one time, even when I forget she doesn't like plates and cups left around the house and forget to put them in the sink, or when I try to cook for myself and burn the food and she cleans up after me. She just reminds me to clean up and to try not to burn my food, and sometimes laughs me off, but I know she's only teasing. 

She's just the best thing that's happened to me in such a long time. I want to do something to make her the happiest woman in the world. I want her to think, "There's no woman luckier than me", and I can know that I'm the reason she thinks so.

When I finish cleaning I turn around and look at her smiling face, her chocolate eyes gleaming, full to the brim with something. I'm just going to pretend that it's love. I'm happy to pretend that Maisie loves me as much as I love her.

"You don't have to do that, Syd."

"I want to. You do so much for me." She stands up and pulls me down to kiss me softly on the cheek. I can feel my face flush like paint spilling on a paper towel, spreading gradually and not stopping. I'm hot all of a sudden, and so nervous. I touch the spot where I felt her lips against my skin and look her straight in the eyes, hoping that she can see that I'd walk to the end of the world on hot coals if she asked me to. 

"You're like a different person than you were back then." I hope so. I've put a lot of work into trying to get better and find peace. I didn't spend years in a hospital for nothing. 

"I've had a lot of time to calm down and get myself all fixed. I've had a lot of therapy, you know. I'm all straightened out now. I think I prefer living a quiet life, too. All of that stardom was too much for me. I'm too delicate. That's what my sister says, anyway." 

"I would have preferred a life without stardom, too, not that it was ever mine." I'd like to think she's talking about how she and I might still be together if I'd never been famous and never broken down, but I know deep inside she's talking about David Gilmour. He's such a lucky man to have been able to be with her for so long, and for her to still love him the way I know she does. For now I think I'll pretend she's talking about me and about us. I know I'm lying to myself, but I think if I don't my heart might break. It's still very hard to face the fact that I drove Maisie to do the exact thing I was terrified of her doing. I never wanted to hurt her. I just didn't want her to leave. Haven't you ever done something drastic to keep a loved one, but lost them because of it? 

"Let's go for a walk now. I want you to see the town." 

"I remember Cambridge."

"You mean in the 70s?" I ask teasingly. She laughs a hearty laugh, and she throws up her arms like she's giving up, but she's teasing me too, I can tell. 

"I guess you're right. I don't know why I'm being resistant. Let's go for a walk." I stand up and she sneaks her arm through mine. Wow, I feel so lucky to walk around with her on my arm like this. Everyone will be so surprised to see me with a woman, especially considering that they've never seen me with one in all these years except for Rosemary. 

We leave the house and I see Luke and Sam again, playing in the street. When they see us they run right over and this time I stop for them, and Maisie stops too. 

"Mr. Barrett, is that the nice girl you like?" Luke asks, unaware he might embarrass us. I am pretty embarrassed. What if she gets mad that I said that? Instead I look over at her and she's stifling a small laugh. She doesn't look unhappy with me. Maybe she isn't uncomfortable with my feelings.

"This is Maisie, boys. She's an old friend of mine." 

"Who you like a lot!" I close my eyes and laugh heartily, then look over at Maisie to make sure she isn't upset. It's clear that she's not upset. She seems to be having a good time. 

"Yeah, I do like her a lot." She playfully slaps my arm and laughs. I grab a hold of her hand and squeeze it just enough so only she'll know that I did it. She squeezes my hand, too. Can't get over it, I really can't. I'm pretty sure that maybe I've actually died and gone to heaven.

"Can you play with us now?" I look over at Maisie for her approval. I don't want to waste any of her time. If she didn't want me to stay we wouldn't, but it seems like she's happy to let me play with them.

"Do you mind if I play with my friends here for a few minutes? As soon as I'm done we'll continue on our walk."

"I don't mind at all. I'll hang back and watch." So I get lost in playing with my little friends and once in awhile I look back at Maisie to see if maybe she's ready for me to stop. But the only thing I ever see in her face is joy, and maybe something else I can't identify. I play with those two boys for about ten minutes, and then say my goodbyes as I hold out my arm for Maisie to take. I introduce her to everyone I see that I know. I'm just so happy that she's still here with me.


	21. Maisie - London, September 2006 - The Hotel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!

David runs to the bathroom, and grabs a towel to dry us both off. I shiver when he's finished, and he crawls on top of me, his hands resting on either side of my head, holding himself up. He stares into my eyes and I spread my legs for him, and he laughs at me.

"You'll have to wait for that, I'm afraid." After he finishes speaking he starts to kiss my neck, and I feel his hand slowly move down to my breast. Electricity shoots through my entire body as I feel his fingers gently circling my nipples until I lean my head back and release a deep and throaty moan, and he moves down to my chest to kiss and lick my nipples while I writhe in ecstasy. My breath quickens with each touch of his mouth against my skin. I can feel his fingers gently turning my nipple like a dial, and then he slides his hand down my stomach toward my garden. He opens my lips and presses his middle finger only lightly against my flowerbud; I'm not sure how he remembered exactly where it was,or exactly what I liked but he did. He's teasing me, driving me into hysterics with each light but knowing touch. 

"Please take me now," I plead. I need him inside me.

"No, no, not yet. I have to see if you still taste as sweet as I remember." I spread my legs wider, and he trails his lips down my stomach until he's between my legs, and I watch his eyes as they peer up into mine. His face twists into that sexy smirk as he leans his face down close to me and holds my lips open, searching for my pearl, and then slowly brings the tip of his tongue against it. I jolt and writhe as I feel his tongue lightly flicking against me, and I move myself up and down on his face. He holds my hips down and flicks his tongue against me with a little more speed, only the tip, until I can feel myself flood and I moan perhaps twice as loud as I should have. His lips glide over my inner thighs, and as I'm shaking: breathless, a slave to my orgasm...he brings his lips back against my clit and sucks it enough for me to be electrified by it.

"Oh, David you don't have to…"

"I didn't wait 20 years to give you only one orgasm when my record is six." And so he goes on to give me five, then six, then seven orgasms. I'm utterly spent, but now all I want to do is take him in my mouth.

"Get on your back, David." I push him off of me, struggle to sit up, and shove him down on his back so I can straddle him and bend over him, kissing all around his face and his neck. I can feel his hardness beneath me and I gyrate against his erection a bit before I slide my tongue down to his rock hard length.

His hand gropes around for my hair as I take all of him into my mouth, and he tugs it a little, the way he knows I like it. I slide my mouth up and down his cock, taking each inch in until he's down my throat. He jerks and writhes and grunts and moans, and I force him deeper into my throat until I can't take it anymore. I suck him until I can feel his cock pulsing.

"Don't cum yet. You haven't fucked me." He's in such a state that he throws me down on my back and positions himself to mount and take me. He kisses me deeply as I spread my legs for him and he forces his cock inside me. 

"Get on top of me. You know I like to watch you ride." I straddle him, my legs spread over his hips, and then I lower myself into his cock, feeling the full force of his hardness inside me, brushing again and again against my G-spot as he thrusts in and out with the full intensity of his desire. I bounce up and down on his dick, my breasts jiggling as I move, and I quickly cover them up because I'm just so embarrassed by them (pfft...I let all three of them think that).

"Take your hands away. I want to watch you." I peel my hands away and he massages my breasts as we continue to pound into one another. "I've always loved your body. Don't deprive me of seeing it after so long." 

"I've missed your cock," I moan. 

I can feel him pulsing inside me. I know he's going to finish. When he explodes inside my body I wait a minute before I dismount, and in that time he takes a long, slow, deep breath and lets out a sigh of satisfaction. I crawl up to lie next to him, and rest my head and my hand on his chest, and he gently strokes my hair and kisses the top of my head. We are soaked in sweat and our shared juices: messy, dirty, and overtaken.

"This was only the first round, you know. I'll have you again tonight. And maybe one more time after that."


	22. Roger - London, September 2006

Now that we're alone I can drop the act and stop pretending, right?

God, I hadn't even thought about her in years. 

Eventually, a few years after I walked out on those three pricks, I was able to drink enough to block her out. It was fucking excruciating. 

I walked into Syd's memorial already a bit shaken up because of that conversation we'd had a week or so before he passed. That's when I learned that Maisie had been staying with him, and that was the first time since 1987 that I'd thought of that name. I was already set up for being an anxious disaster. 

It wouldn't occur to anyone that Maisie would be anywhere near Syd, not after everything that had happened. I shouldn't have had to reunite with the guys and mourn Syd and also be a wreck over having to see her again. But that's what it was…

I saw her before David did, but that's because I didn't bother mingling with anyone, and he did. I made sure I was going to see her first. After all, I did see her first all those years ago. Having been a warm-up act a few times, I can tell you that being Maisie's warm-up act was the worst. 

She walked in through the door with Rosemary and her son, holding Rosemary's hand. Both of them were misty eyed and forcing smiles. I didn't expect her to look that good. I didn't expect to want to take her in my arms so quickly when I saw tears on her cheeks. I didn't expect to get nauseous and heavy when I saw her turn her head. I stepped into her path of vision, hoping that maybe it would work this time even though it never seemed to back then.

But she looked right through me. 

When I turned my head my throat dropped into my stomach as I saw exactly who I was afraid I'd see: David. Fucking David. Sweet, friendly, gracious, emotionally well adjusted David. David, with his beautiful wife and entire horde of children who is about to throw that all away. And at that same moment, he saw her too, so it was over for me before it even began. 

Not that I'd been thinking I'd have a shot, but if I could've just caught her before she saw him … I don't know. So I followed them, but I wish I hadn't. I'm so fucking jealous. David has always gotten everything I've ever wanted: being brilliant at the guitar, a beautiful singing voice, a happy (?) marriage, children, and her. 

It's as it always was: Maisie pays no attention to me. I know I did it to myself, but is it really the same all these years later? Even now I'm in the background trying not to explode with all these fucking emotions and she's there in his arms, and she just doesn't even know. She doesn't know at all how even now when we're older I feel breathless when she looks at me. 

She didn't even remember I wanted to talk to her. 

Neither Nick nor Rick took me up on my offer of going out and doing something so I'm staying in a new hotel with a fully stocked bar and drinking myself stupid. Probably not the best way to honor Syd's memory, but alas, that's what I'm doing. I get more and more drunk, and stupid, and pissed off. Probably better that I'm alone right now. When am I not, really? I really can't stand most people. Not worth the nine months it takes to make them, in my opinion. Certainly not worth the 20 something years it takes to raise them. But are other people really the problem? What do you think? Evidence seems to suggest that it might be me, but that's another reason why we have alcohol


	23. David - London, September 2006 - The Hotel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!

Maisie and I fell asleep together after we'd gone to the bathroom, and I awake soon after. She agreed to one more time, and she stirs as I shake her awake.

"Time for round two, my love," I whisper in her ear, bringing my lips just against it while I speak. Maisie loves the sound of my voice: it drives her wild. She won't be able to resist if I whisper to her. She's so sensitive to sound; I got so much love after gigs. Ah, that was fun. 

"Okay, baby."

"I've been waiting to have you again…" She shivers with pleasure and I reach between her perfectly soft but strong legs. 

"More, David, more." My voice lowers to a sensual growl I know will bend her will to resist me, and I glide my lips along her earlobe and her neck.

"There's nothing in the world that I need more than you and this sweet little pussy." Maisie turns over onto her stomach and raises her beautiful bottom until she's face down with her bottom up. I love this position, and she remembered.

She's so tight from this angle. How can a woman my age still have such a tight little pussy? I thrust myself inside her juicy slit and feel my balls and my hips slapping against her body. With her hair between my fingers I lean over and cover her body with my own, still pounding into her willing hole. I nibble her ear and reach my hand down to play with her sweet flower while I pump her and feel the walls of her pussy pressing against my hard, girthy cock. I can feel her flood all over my fingers, and I let myself ejaculate right along with her. We collapse onto our backs, once again covered in our sweat. I look over at her and we laugh at how sloppy we are.

"We're gross. Let's get in the shower and go for round 3." She smiles. I'm spent. My cock is raw, I'm sore. I just want us to be close to one another.

"We can shower, but I'm done. You've tired me out and made me sore," I say with a small laugh. I pull her body on top of mine, savoring the primitive and earthy scent of our sex. Her pheromones ruin me. I get up out of bed, and she follows. That luxurious walk in shower is waiting for us.


	24. Syd - Cambridge, March 2006

It's a rainy day today. I don't feel good. I feel sad and heavy, and a bit sick, but that's to be expected. Maisie went out to the grocery store in the rain, so I'm alone now. I can't seem to pry myself off the couch to do anything, but I have to or I'm going to drive myself crazy. I have an idea: I'll vacuum and dust the living room. Maisie will be so happy. It's nice for me too because I really do want to live in a clean home. I'm not used to a dirty home anymore, not since she came back and fixed the house. Before she came back my house was always a big mess until Rosemary came and cleaned it, but then it would only turn into a mess again. I never liked to clean, and for a lot of years I was so low functioning that it didn't even cross my mind to do it.

Vacuuming and dusting just now made me feel really good. I am pretty caught up in admiring the room. I can't wait to see her face. My Maisie.

I hear the jangling of keys unlocking the front door and Maisie comes in, carrying a few bags from the store, her hair dappled with mist from the rain like she's got drops of dew in her hair. I should have gone with her, but she made me stay home because I told her that I don't feel good. 

"Hi, Syd. Can you get a few bags from the car?"

"Of course I will. You didn't need to ask." When I come back in carrying three bags I see her looking around the room, a big and approving smile on her pretty face. 

"Wait. Did you clean up in here?" 

"Yeah, I vacuumed and dusted this room so I had something to keep myself busy."

"You're amazing, Syd. I'm really proud of you for doing that. It shows real growth. You have made leaps and bounds." She rewards me with a sweet kiss on the cheek. The light Maisie's brought into my life has made me want to be a better man. I feel better than I've felt in years, and I have a will to live now, more than I had before. That's why I'm going to marry her. I've decided that I have to ask Maisie to marry me. It's the right thing to do because she's been so good and kind to me. I could make sure she was taken care of until she died, and I'd also die knowing she was mine. My wife. Even if it were only a day before my death I'd die grateful and at peace. 

"Can I ask for one thing in return?" I look at her, and I search her for any sign of feeling what I'm feeling. She seems open to me, like something has changed. There's a vulnerability in her demeanor now: she's curious, but she's still scared of me. The last thing I want is for my Queen to be scared of me, but it's my fault. It's just that so many people are scared of me even though I wouldn't hurt anyone. Let's all make it obvious that we're scared of the sick old bloke, shall we? Who cares that he's harmless, he looks scary and we heard him mumble in response to a voice once and now he's so terrifying. At least they either leave me alone or are friendly, and keep hangers on away from me.

My heart breaks when I see the tinge of fear that shoots through her eyes, but something's different now. Her silence is betrayed by the warmth of a flushed cheek. 

"Yes, of course." I take her hand,and she can't maintain eye contact she's so embarrassed. 

"Can we sit on the sofa for awhile, and may I be close to you?" Her gaze turns toward me, a wide eyed and surprised one, but not angry nor hostile. I wish I could tell what she's thinking. Maybe she isn't disgusted or disturbed by it anymore. It seems like lately Maisie has wanted me around, and wanted to be close to me. It's probably extending my life more than I can even guess, but I try to do a lot of things that make me feel happy so it's probably a combination of things.

If only she'd just tell me what it is she wants. She told me there'd be no mystery between us, but there is. I wish I knew how she felt about me. I want to ask her, but I'm so scared she'll leave me. If she could leave David she could without a doubt leave me alone. Not that I wouldn't deserve it, of course. The fact that she's even here at all is a blessing. There has to be somebody up there if they would bring Masie back.

"Yes. We can do that. And you can." I could live in that smile. Wow, what did I do to deserve her being here? A whole lot of nothing. She does this out of the kindness of her heart. I don't know if I could have found it in my heart to forgive me if I were her. That incident with the closet is one of the most profound regrets of my life. But I'd never hurt her again, and I think she knows that. I couldn't do anything like that again. Not when she was kind enough to trust me a second time, and especially because I love her so much. I straddled the line with my inexcusable behavior while she was sleeping: don't need to do it again. I think she can see I've changed, too. Anybody can. I'm not completely healthy in my mind. I'm still very easy to upset and can get carried off by my emotions, but at least I know what my emotions are now, and I can talk to people and have friends and a life. The man that locked his girlfriend in a closet and couldn't make his life or his thoughts work is gone. I don't even really remember what it felt like to be that way, only the impact that my actions had on others. But some of the memories, like locking Maisie up, and hurting my mum...those are fresh in my mind.

I want to see myself in her eyes; I want to feel her lips on my cheek again, or on my lips, if I'm lucky. I'm not much to look at anymore, and I know it. But I'd like to think she sees beyond that: that she could maybe love me for who I am. David is so beautiful, even in his old age. His pale blue eyes and pouty lips drive women crazy, Maisie being one of them. And I barely recognize Roger, he's so handsome and fit. What happened to the awkward skinny horse boy I loved so much? But I haven't been able to be as kind to my body as David and Roger have been, and it shows. I'm not beautiful Syd Barrett anymore, that's for sure. But I don't think she minds. She's not superficial. 

After I pass I want Maisie and David to be together. They truly love one another. I'm painfully jealous of David, as I always have been. I long for Maisie endlessly, I know I love her as much as David does, but I'm not the one she sees anymore. When she looks at me now she doesn't look at me with love and desire anymore. I'm simply her friend. I screwed it all up. 

I think maybe she does have some feelings for me, though. I know her eyes and her manner have been different. I don't want to get my hopes up, though. I might be imagining it, but when we touch now she doesn't shudder or move away. She lets me touch her or she gently asks me to stop only for then. It's so exciting to be so close to her.

David and Maisie are perfect for one another, they are. That's based on what Maisie has told me in the past few weeks, and what Roger has told me over the years. I'd ask about her; I always wanted to know what she was doing and how she was doing. Roger told me that Maisie and David were over the moon for one another. I can see the sharp pain in her eyes when we talk about David. It's like the thought of him brings more pain than she can bear. One time she talked about him, and I saw her eyes well up with tears a little. She choked them back and moved on, and we don't talk about David anymore. She asked me to stop because she said it wasn't fair to me, but I don't want to possess Maisie. She isn't only mine.

So I want them to be together. I want Maisie to get all the love I wish she wanted me to give her, and I want David to get all of the love from Maisie that I would have done anything to be able to have. If I can't be the one it's okay. I will be content with having been with her at all. It'll be enough that she was with me at the end. Besides my nephew and sister, I wouldn't choose anyone else to be here when I go. She's the only one that I want there. 

So I hope that if there's a Heaven and I can see what's going on down here I'll be able to see a world at peace, no hunger … so many nice things. But I'd check specifically to see if Maisie and David were together, and whether he was caring for and loving and adoring her like I do And if they were together, that would make me feel so good.

You see, I think when you love a woman you need to know when to give up trying to pursue her. Not to stop loving her, not at all, but to fight your urge to possess her. If you really love her, you want to see her being loved by someone who she deserves. I have so many problems with David, but she deserves him. That's the kind of man she needs.

She lets me pull her in closer than I ever have, and she's leaning so much into me. It's so nice. It feels like that's how Heaven would feel. I grip her upper arm a little tighter. I love to just touch her. I pull her toward my heart and gently press her head into it so she can listen to it beat for her. She should be able to be close to what's hers. 

I'll love her to my last breath.


	25. Maisie - London, September 2006 - The Hotel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!

The pleasantly hot water of that gorgeous shower is pulsing down onto our backs as we stand, our arms enveloping each other's bodies, and occasionally we kiss gently, smiling at one another once our lips part. I never want to be away from David again. He's always been the one. I'm pained to the core when I think that tonight will soon come to an end, and that we may never be together this way again. If he wants to leave, I won't put up a fight. His wife is the priority. If all we are is a fling then I will have to accept that despite the blow to my soul. For now, though, I feel like I'm the only woman in the world when David looks at me. 

We're like part of the same whole. Yin and Yang, god and goddess, anima and animus. Man and woman. I've felt like half of myself has been missing for decades, and I've just found that part of myself again; I've just lit the fire inside me for the first time in a long time. We have always been so in tune with another. We're both just such sensitive people that we can be in tune with one another almost like we're psychic.

"I love you…" he whispers to me as if it's been stuck in the back in his throat forever.

"David, I've always loved you. There has never been a day when I haven't thought of you." 

"My thoughts of you keep me awake at night. I can't sleep peacefully." David and I always loved to whisper to one another like this. It's because we wrote so many sappy, dramatic love letters to one another while he was away. 

"I never want this to end." We kiss deeply after sharing an intense, electric look. 

"It's not going to end."

"No?" He gets close to my face, kisses me once, pulls away and then shakes his head. 

"No, it's not." As we come back together to share a kiss I let a small smile cross my lips, and I reach my hand up into his hair. I soak in all of my lover's beauty and elegance, and his soulful, kind blue eyes and his beautiful mouth. His strong, thick body with those amazing arms. I feel every memory of the depth and radiance of David's pure soul. His brilliance and the warmth of his heart have never left me. 

"But…" He places his index finger on my lips, quieting me.

"Shh. I'll figure it out. You're not getting away from me. I won't do even another year of the torture that's been the last 20."

"Good, because I won't, either."

We wash one another's bodies and hair, paying special attention to every inch of each other, savoring each other's touch. When the shower is finished we towel each other off and he starts to apply my moisturizer on me like he always used to, which has me wanting another go. My sex drive is at an all time high lately especially having (contentedly) chosen to go without it. I know he said he's done, but as if he can smell it on me he puts his fingers between the lips concealing my clitoris and starts to rub me.

"Just because I'm done doesn't mean I'll refuse you."

"How did you know?" A sly laugh erupts from somewhere deep within him, and he slides his hand up to my breast, and then back down between my legs.

"Why did you think I wouldn't?" I grind against him as he pushes his first two fingers inside me, forcing them in and out until I get close, and then he pulls them out and lets the tips of his fingers move in gentle circles around my clitoris until I squirt for him for the 9th time tonight. We put on robes and wander out to the bed, which by now looks like there's no way for it to even be slept in.

"We should make the bed, I think." I laugh and shake my head and he kisses me on top of it. 

"Yeah, I think you're right. We have to sleep sometime, don't we?" 

After a stupid, childish impromptu blanket fight that leaves us in stitches lying on the floor, we finally get down to business and make the bed at least enough to be slept in. I look over at David, and his eyes meet mine. I feel my eyes well up with tears. Not bad tears, not tears like I'm feeling sadness, but tears of relief. I never thought I'd be able to sleep next to him again.

David could always read my mind, I'm convinced, because in response to me his eyes well up too. If there's anything that really strikes at the very center of my being it's seeing my love overtaken by so much emotion. 

"Okay, let's lay down now. If we don't we might just stand here awkwardly staring at one another and reading each other's minds all night."


	26. David - Cambridge, 1967

_Just another stressful band practice where we have to stop a little too often to try to bring Syd back to earth. Just another bullshit day where Roger is late. Asshole just doesn't care about anyone else's time._

_The door's opening. There he fucking is. Douchebag. _

_Wait a minute, who's that behind him? She's cute. She's actually really adorable. What a sweet face. She's so timid, I can tell. What pretty long hair. I am having a really hard time looking away. She doesn't even see me. Her eyes are either locked on gawky, weird looking Roger or focused on the floor where they retreat when she's scared. That's so cute. But I wish she'd see me. I promise, the view is far superior. _

_Maisie. Wow, what a cute name. I'll bet she is really nice, and really smart. I love cute, quiet smart girls. Girls that bake and read and don't really like to party much. _

_Finally she looks at me, only for a second before her eyes dart back to the floor, but do I see her blushing? I think she's blushing. I bet her cheeks are so soft._

_Should I introduce myself? What would Roger think? This is his new young girlfriend of course. This one isn't too much younger, thankfully. Maybe 3 or 4 years younger than me. Much better than the time that creepy fucker brought a 16 year old around. Thank god that lasted only a few days. I think even he has a line. _

_Oh, god damn it. Syd's zeroed in on her too. Of course. Nice time to come back to the solar system, Syd. Couldn't possibly have done it during practice. Of course you'd like her too because why would it not work that way? Didn't think you were into cute, innocent, bookish types. Your last girlfriend was really very sexually liberated and gregarious, and that's me being polite, because what I want to say is that Lindsay was an evil waste of life who looked like she dragged herself out of a garbage receptacle. She had cheap, flattened stiff black hair, too much eyeliner, crater skin, and she was mean to you. Is that why now you're looking at this one?_

_She's wearing this sweet navy blue pinstriped jumper with a kind of puffy necked turtleneck blouse with white knee high stockings and those vinyl buckle shoes. Modest, innocent, but still sexy. _

_I am going to have to shoot a shot eventually, I'm afraid, but that's so difficult. I don't know what to say in those situations. I've gotta try somehow at some point. She's just too cute._


	27. Syd - Cambridge, 1967

_I don't really know. I think Roger might be late again. I can't tell. _

_Sometimes I like to sit alone in my room and forget I'm alive for awhile._

_This studio is not something I'd normally choose to record in. Do we usually record here? I can't tell. I don't recognize it. But maybe we do. I don't know. _

_Stupid David. Stay away from me, you shithead. Stay away from my band, asshole. Yes I hear you, and I can feel you shaking me. I just would rather stay in here than have to be in that gross room with you and your stupid pretty face. Besides I don't know if I could actually get out if I even wanted to. _

_Roger's the only one who understands me. He's a good friend even though he's mean to other people. I think most people don't understand him. Roger doesn't mean to be mean, he just can't understand anyone else, or himself. He likes people and that scares him so he hurts their feelings. I know Roger is nice inside. We've been best friends forever. _

_Fine, you guys. I'll play my guitar again for these corporate fat cats who don't understand or even like my music. And then I'll go out on stage and have to deal with all those women trying to get at me and all of those people who are screaming for me. It's awful. I wouldn't wish it even on David. Sure I'll do it. Yep. I miss just playing clubs or with my friends. They want to change my music. It's miserable. Why do you want to do it?_

_I bring myself to focus and Roger walks in with this beautiful lady behind him. I feel all nervous inside. I feel like my whole insides have started spinning. My heart is racing. I'm so embarrassed because I look a right mess today, and I'm all messed up on acid, and I'm not fit to be seen by a goddess like her. She's sparkling like diamonds. _

_Maisie. That's so cute. Like a little girl's name. Not that she's a little girl...she's so cute like that though. _

_She's so pretty. She reminds me of creamy vanilla ice cream or a Mucha painting. I really like her._

_Oh David just don't even look. _

_You can have any woman you want. Let me have this one. Linsday is gone and I'm so alone and this lady is just so pretty like a pretty blue flower. The kind mum had in her garden. Leave her alone. Leave her for me._


	28. Syd - Cambridge, March 2006

Last night I was trying to sleep, but it was a little too hard. It was one of the nights Maisie asked to sleep alone. Sometimes she does because I think she's still afraid to get too close to me. On those nights I have a really hard time sleeping because being next to her is just so relaxing. I lie awake in my bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for my body to finally start to close down, but that moment just wouldn't come. With every sleep starved moment the daylight came closer and depressingly closer and I felt miserable. I just wanted to sleep. I'd have given anything to be able to fall asleep. A soft, careful knock came on my doorframe, and my heart raced so fast; my stomach felt like it was flying. I sprung up, and there was Maisie standing by the door wearing these cute pink silk pajamas. She looked young and angelic, I couldn't handle it.

"Syd, will you come sleep with me?" I stood up at once because that's exactly what I wanted her to say. I held out my arms for her to come into so she wouldn't have to feel lonely any longer. I felt so lonely without her, too. I'm so lucky. 

"Yes. I was hoping you'd ask." She settled into my arms and we walked back to her bedroom where we laid down together. I couldn't stop looking at her pretty face glowing in the moonlight. Her warm brown eyes shut with contentment and I pushed some of her hair out of her face. She placed her hand over my own and I trembled at her soft touch. 

"Maisie?" She nods.

"Mmhmm?"

"Open your eyes." Maisie's eyes opened and I couldn't hold it in. I was so scared: so, so worried that if I told her what I wanted to tell her she'd reject me. I almost didn't do it. I stood right on the edge of not telling her, but I had to. It couldn't stay inside anymore.

"What is it?" I drew her close and she flushed a color that reminds me of Valentine's Day. 

"I love you so much…" I whispered. I was so afraid that I could feel my heart in my throat and my brain telling me to run away and hide. "Please don't say anything. I am happy not knowing if you love me, too." 

I noticed Maisie shedding soft tears that rolled in the most delicate way down her flushed cheeks. My heart stung with the pang of my unrequited love.

"No, no, Maisie. Why are you crying?"

"I'm only crying because I'm so touched." I wiped her tears away, relishing the opportunity to comfort her the way she's always comforted me.

"I love you. I love you, my Maisie..." Then I started to cry, and she wiped my tears away just like I did for her, and she held onto my neck and nestled her head into where my neck meets my shoulder. Maisie slept with her body facing mine for the first time instead of away from it. She let me pull her into my chest and then she wrapped her arm around me and squeezed me so tight I felt like she was trying to pull me inside her body. 

"I can't sleep without you anymore," she whispered to me. I felt so warm inside. She is everything I could ever want. When she told me that it felt like the past where I used to smoke cannabis and actually enjoy it, before my mind broke. Like that kind of fun, airy high where all you want to do is laugh. 

"Then for the rest of my life you'll never, ever have to." We fell asleep together, and I slept so good. When we sleep together I get really restful sleep. She's so warm and comforting. Today is the day, I decided. Today is the day I'm going to ask Maisie to marry me. Now that I know she doesn't want to sleep without me I really think she will say yes. I would want to marry the person I couldn't sleep without. I already do.

I decided that before I do that I'm going to talk to Rosemary about it. Just so she knows upfront that Maisie didn't put me up to it. I'm really afraid that people will think badly of Maisie if they know we got married before I died. I don't want them to think she was trying to steal my money. She would never do something like that. I'm choosing to marry her because I love her, and I want to take care of her. I also want to die knowing Maisie was mine, even if it's only for one day. 

I walk out into the living room and Maisie is there, wearing a red blouse and tidying up the mess I forgot to clean up last night. I am really trying, but sometimes I still forget. It's okay though because she never yells at me or makes me feel bad the way my mother did. 

Every day I try to look at her as if it's the first time I saw her all over again. I like to look at her in awe, like I've never seen anything so astounding in my life, even though I see her every day. That's how every man should look at his wife. With how awful men are every single one of us should be eternally grateful and appreciative if we get one woman to stay.

"Good morning, Maisie," I say. She turns around to look at me and smiles as I kiss her cheek. That's new: we haven't really been doing that every day for all that long. She let me do that the other day. I was sitting next to her on the couch and I kind of just leaned over and did it (after asking), and she smiled and giggled a little bit, and told me she liked it. I think we are functioning like a couple now even though she says we aren't one. I think she's lying to herself. She tells me she can't sleep without me...isn't that something that you say to someone when you love them? 

"Good morning, Syd." She kisses my cheek, too, and my face gets really hot. It's sad when she pulls away. I could live forever with her lips on my cheek like that. I could freeze time and just stay in that moment, and that would be just fine with me.

"I'm going to go round to Rosemary for awhile. I'd ask you to come, but I think you should take the day for yourself. Don't worry about my breakfast or lunch, okay? Just please go do something to make yourself feel as good as you can." I gather my things and leave one more kiss on her smooth, perfect cheek... can you imagine still having such smooth skin in your 50s? Lots of people would love to be so lucky. And then I ride my bike over to my sister's house, stopping to talk to a few friends along the way. I stopped to tell Kathy that Maisie and I are getting married. I know I haven't asked yet but I'm so excited I can't help myself! 

I stand my bike up against Rosemary's house and knock on her front door. She answers with a cup of coffee in her hand and her hair wrapped in a towel.

"Roger, how are you this morning? It's nice to see you. I was going to come around later." 

"I wanted to talk to you about something. I've got a plan that I want to let you know about ahead of time so you don't make any judgments." She stares at me, confused. 

"Well come on in, then. Would you like some coffee or tea? Something to eat?" 

"Both would be nice. I told Maisie not to worry about it today."

"She's such a good soul, Roger. You have been very lucky that she's come and stayed with you after your history together." She places a plate of bacon and toast in front of me, and pours me a glass of orange juice, all of which I gratefully consume. It's not Maisie's breakfast, but it's good. I'll never tell Rosemary that Maisie's is better, though. 

"That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about, actually." I nervously push my food around on my plate and look down at it, but I can't help myself. I smile while looking down at my plate.

"Well, what is it?" 

"I'm going to ask Maisie to marry me." Her eyes widen and she gives me a look of disbelief.

"Are you serious?" 

"I'm completely serious." She takes a big swig of her coffee and I can hear her swallow.

"Did she suggest this, then?" I knew that she'd say that, but it doesn't stop me from being angry at her for it. 

"No, Rosemary, because I haven't even told her about it yet. She has no idea. This is something I've decided to do completely on my own...I want to repay her for everything she's done for me."

"You want to repay her, so you're going to put her in a position for people to be suspicious of her when you die?"

"We aren't going to make it public. You know, and Kathy at the coffee shop knows, and that's it. And she can tell her friends. But we won't announce it." Rosemary goes right on eating, as if she has a lot to say, but she's using her food as a way to keep her mouth shut. Finally she rests her fork on her plate and takes a deep breath.

"Is this really what you want?" 

"More than anything. You know how much I've always loved her. And now she's here with me, and I think she loves me." My sister shakes her head, and she looks sad. Why would she look sad on a day like this? I certainly don't feel sad. 

"I don't think… I think that you might be mistaking kindness for her being in love with you, Roger, and that worries me." She has no idea the way Maisie looks at me, or the way we fit perfectly together in bed at night, or the way that Maisie kisses my cheek. She does love me. She must. 

"No, she loves me. You don't know. We sleep together at night, and she lets me hug her, and she hugs me, too. And last night she told me she can't sleep without me anymore. I want to marry her...I don't have a lot of time left. Maybe one more month, two more months at most. And in that time if I can say I got married to the woman I love most in the world do you know how worth it that would make everything? Even dying won't be too bad, because Maisie will be my wife." Rosemary smiles a warm smile, and reaches out to pat my hand.

"If you're certain you won't get your heart broken, then you have my full blessing." For right now, I'm going to help Rosemary in her garden. Then we'll have lunch, and I'll go into town to try to find a ring for Maisie. Or will that be too much? If I want to keep it relatively secret maybe I shouldn't buy one. But then if I don't give her one she'll think I'm not being serious. I'll buy her a necklace. That way I can give her something, but it won't be as obvious as a ring. I'll have to make sure I find one that's as perfect as she is.

I think engagement rings are stupid, anyway. I think it's just so men can show ownership of a woman to other men. But a necklace is ambiguous. Only she knows what it is. No other man will look at it and think of Maisie as being owned.

Then I'll go home and shower, and when I'm dressed I'll ask her, finally. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. She might turn me down. What will I do if that happens?


	29. David - London, September 2006 - The Hotel

Maisie and I lie so close together, clad only in our (open) robes, and find some way never to separate. I roll over on my side and look over at her, and for the first time tonight I notice a tiny gold star lingering at her throat. .

"You didn't take that off in the shower?" She fingers it for a second.

"This? I don't take this off if I'm not at home or in a familiar place." She places her hand over it. Wherever she got it from it must be something or someone important to her. I reach to touch it, and I feel her wince. 

"I won't hurt it. I just want to see it. I didn't notice it before." 

"I know. It was a gift from a dear friend." She pushes me down onto my back and nestles between my arm and my upper body. After all those years she still fits perfectly there. I softly move my fingers up and down her arm, and then stroke her hair with my other hand. 

"Do you know what I'm going to do?"

"I don't. What are you going to do?" I'm not going to let Maisie get away. I'm going to find some way to make sure that we're together. It's possible to keep my two relationships separate, and that's what I've decided I'm going to do.

"I'm going to buy a house near you. A house just for you and me." She squeezes me tightly and I start to gently finger the necklace around her neck. She lies still, allowing me to do it. 

"All the way out in Bar Harbor, huh?" 

"That's the place." She plays with the hair on my chest.

"That's not where I live." She laughs and playfully smacks my arm.

"Where do you live then?" 

"I live in a town called Freeport."

"Well, then I'll be getting a house in Freeport." We can't stop talking. Finally I place a finger on her lips. "Let's sleep now, Maisie. We'll talk about our plans in the morning."

"I love you, David. I'm so happy we're together." She pulls the blankets up and buries us in them, and I tighten my grip on her as she turns to her side and throws her arm over my stomach. 

"I'm so happy we'll never be apart again for a long time." We both drift slowly off to sleep, calmed by the beating of one another's hearts. If I could find some way to be near Maisie every single day, I would. I remember fondly the day I had enough nerve to say hello to her at a band practice. She was so nice. I was afraid she'd be standoffish because she was so timid, but she was really friendly. I was such an idiot, I couldn't manage much beyond "hi" and asking her what her opinion was on the weather. I figured I'd never have a chance. Yet here we are, together.


	30. Maisie - Cambridge, 1967

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maisie's first kiss!

_I met a nice boy the other day named Roger, and I'm here at his house now. He's really cute. He's got long brown hair and he's very thin and he's got a nice face, and he's so nice! He's funny. He's always telling stories, so that makes him pretty interesting. _

__

_Today he invited me over to his house for the first time. I'm waiting outside the front door. It's a normal house, I guess. It's small and white. Nothing out of the ordinary. My friend Victoria told me to be careful. She said that British boys love to sleep with American girls just for the thrill of it, and she's afraid he'll hurt me. I don't think he will, though. Since we met he's been nothing but a gentleman._

__

_I knock, and two seconds later he opens the door and he's got a big smile on his face as he looks me over._

__

"Hey, Maisie, come on in," he says as he puts his hand on my lower back to guide me into the house. I blush as I feel his hand on me. He's got nice, long hands. And a nice house. There's guitars everywhere. Wow, is he in a band? 

__

_"Are these yours?" He's smiling at me again. He's so cute. Look at him. I can't believe I met a cute British guy already and I haven't even been here for a year yet. He's sitting on his couch, and he pats it for me to sit down. I sit down next to him and look into his big green eyes. I stare at him while he looks toward the collection and tells me all about them. It turns out he's in a band. That's so cool. They're not super famous yet, but he says they're going to be soon. I'll be going out with a famous boy. That's sooo cool._

__

_He told me he's 24, which is older than me, but it's not that bad. I like older guys anyway. I've never actually gone out with a guy his age, though, or any guy at all. There's so many beautiful women out there. He's famous and cute so why would he want me? I've never had this happen to me before._

__

__

_I stare at him, unsure, and my fear makes him smile. I think he can tell I don't know what I'm doing. I hardly even know how to respond to him, or what I'm supposed to do. When he looks into my eyes my belly does flips, and I can't maintain his eye contact. I smile, and I look down toward his floor._

__

_"I'm not gonna hurt you, Maisie." I blush as he pushes some of my hair out of my face. "You're really cute. I can't stand it." I love his pretty brown hair, too. It's like the color of cinnamon, and it falls in his face in such an adorable way. I think he wants to kiss me. No one has ever looked at me like that before. I can't keep his gaze, I'm so embarrassed. I'd certainly like to kiss Roger, though. _

__

_It's like he knows! I giggle like I'm a kid again as he snakes an arm around me. What an idiot I am sometimes. He probably thinks I'm so immature and uncool. He smiles instead, and I'm relieved. I turn my head so I'm looking him straight in the eye, and my face is heating up as he moves his lips closer to mine. He holds the back of my head and then touches his lips to mine. My heart is dancing! To think such a cool guy wants to kiss me. I'm in heaven. I pull away and look at him for a second to make sure he's still interested, and he giggles and shakes his head at me and pulls me back in for more. When we pull apart he pulls me into him, into a nice hug. I've never felt this way before!_

__

_"You're so cool, Roger. You're the coolest guy I've ever met." I really haven't ever met a guy this cool before. And to think he's paying attention to -me-. If Jenny and Gloria knew that I was kissing boys in bands they'd be so jealous. _

__

_"You're pretty cool too, Maisie." I lean into him and look up at his smiling face and he pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it with a lighter. He offers one to me, but I don't take it. I think if I try to smoke a cigarette I'll embarrass myself. The cigarette hanging out of his mouth makes him all that much cooler. _

__

_"I really want to see you again," I say. It takes so much courage to even say that. He smiles and takes my hand._

__

_"That was my plan."_


	31. Syd - Cambridge, March 2006

I walk into the house and Maisie is home, and she's starting dinner. I would have made dinner, but it took me so long to find a necklace that I thought was perfect for Maisie. It took such a long time, but when I found it it was worth the wait. It's a little gold star necklace on a gold chain. I hope she likes it. It isn't the most expensive piece of jewelry there is, but I saw it and it made me think of how she's a bright star in my life. I walk over to her and kiss her gently on the cheek with the box tucked securely in my pocket.

She turns around and kisses my cheek, too. I pull her by the hand over toward the couch. 

"Maisie, there's something I'd like to ask you. Would you sit down?" She smiles at me, and I can feel my hands shaking as I sit down next to her. I finger the box in my pocket, terrified to pull it out and give it to her. If she says no I think I might die on the spot. It's going to be so scary to ask Maisie to marry me. If I chicken out now it'll be fine. I'll just give her the necklace and tell her it's a gift for no reason. I can't chicken out though. So much of this has already been so scary. Calling Maisie to ask her to come here was terrifying, and every step of the way I've been so scared of driving her away, but she's still here. Nothing I've done has been enough to make her leave. 

"What do you need to ask me?" I can't figure out how to say what I want to say. I can feel the words in my throat, almost ready to come out, but I'm not ready. If I don't just spit it out I'm not going to do it at all.

"Maisie...I have been thinking a lot about how to show you how grateful I am to you, and show you how much I love you. Do you remember that day when we went for that walk and I asked you what I could do for you?" She smiles, probably thinking back on that beautiful late winter morning.

"Well yeah, but I don't need you to do anything. I know how appreciative you are, and I know how much you love me." I take her hand and look down at it. I always loved her small, gentle hands. I stroke her hand with my thumb and return my gaze to her chocolate eyes. 

"I know you don't need me to do anything for you, but this is something I want to do. Something that I really want, too." She's looking at me like she's waiting for me to finish my thought. What do I say? Do I just come out with it? I am shaking with fear at the reality of this. This morning I was so excited: so sure she'd say yes. Now I'm not sure. She will probably say no, and then I'll be heartbroken. I didn't even think about what would happen if she said no. I've always done this. I've always jumped head first into things without thinking them through. Sometimes it works, but sometimes it blows right up in my face. What if this is one of those times?

"Syd? You can tell me whatever it is that you have to tell me." I swallow with a loud gulp and pull the box out of my pocket. My hand is shaking. Maisie's eyes widen when she sees it, like maybe she knows what's coming. I open the box and show her the necklace, and she smiles at me. She must really like it. That's a good sign.

"Maisie…I have been thinking about this for awhile. I want to make sure that no matter what happens you'll be comfortable and never have to struggle. I want you to be safe. And I love you so much that I would like nothing more than for you to be my wife for the little time I have left. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?"

Her cheeks flood with surprise and not embarrassment, but maybe feeling deeply flattered, and her mouth hangs ajar. She shakes her head quickly as if she's trying to shake herself awake from a dream. My heart races faster and faster with every second she doesn't react or say anything to me. She takes the box from me, and she smiles at it one more time before she looks back into my face with warm, maybe loving (?) eyes. She takes my hand and leans into my forehead.

"Yes, Syd, I'll marry you. I'd be honored, and I just can't tell you how it makes me feel to be able to share this with you." I pull her close, tears streaming down my face, and kiss her on the forehead. But she looks up at me and places her hand on my cheek. I shiver as we stare at one another, and she moves closer until our lips almost touch. I'm so nervous, my heart is probably going to jump out of me! But she pulls away at the last second. I'm so confused. "Let's save it for the wedding. We'll do this right." Even though that makes me sad I also feel so good. It's like every wish I've made has come true so fast. 

We decided to do a small courthouse wedding, and not make much ado of it. Just she and I, and Rosemary and my nephew at the courthouse for Maisie and I to marry. And then we will have dinner at a nice restaurant and Maisie and I will go home, and she'll be my wife, and I'll be her husband. She agreed to take my last name, but I asked her not to use it in public. Under normal circumstances I would want to scream to everyone, especially David, that Maisie had married me, but I don't want anyone to ever think anything bad about her. So she will be May Wells Barrett. Maisie Wells Barrett. It's perfect. One day if she marries David, I hope she'll have three last names.


	32. Roger - Cambridge, 1967

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!

_  
I got her to agree to come to bed. Told you she'd be willing. How'd I do it? She's been here every day this week that I've had free, and I've been teasing her so hard she's out of her mind for me. She let me unbutton her shirt the other day and take a look at her bra. I may have fondled her a little bit through it. She really liked that. I promised her if she came and saw me today I'd make her feel things she never thought she could feel. I put my hand on the inside of her thigh and kind of slid it up a little too close to her secret place, but I never touched it. I want her to be dreaming about what it'll feel like. That way when she gets here she'll be wet and excited and I won't have much trouble taking her virginity._

_That's the most exciting part. I've had a lot of younger women, but I've never had a virgin. There's a first time for everything, they say. I hope it isn't annoying, or too much of a hassle. I'd really like to get off. I've heard sometimes with virgins they ask you to stop, and you don't get to cum. That would be really shitty. _

_There's a knock on the door. I open it up, and there, on my porch, bathed in moonlight is my "girlfriend". I had to tell her that's what she is in order to get her to agree to come have sex with me. Whatever. I've had to do that before: it doesn't matter to me, doesn't make a difference._

_She's wearing a cute floral print miniskirt and a white blouse that clings to her waist and breasts in such a way that my attention is immediately drawn, and I can feel a stirring in my pants. She's got cute black knee high socks on with brown leather heeled shoes. I'm gonna have so much fun tonight._

_"Come in, baby," I say as I grab hold of her hand and pull her through the front door. She giggles as I let my hands wander down to her ass and I pat it firmly and with a squeeze. She wraps her arms around me and then pulls away and starts unbuttoning her blouse. Wow, she must be as turned on as I am. She takes my hand and leads me toward my bedroom. _

_Damn. Was she lying about being a virgin?_

_I sit on my bed and watch her undress for me. She must have been talking to some more experienced friends, or something, because she's putting her all into it, like a stripper. She's moving her hips around as she lets her skirt drop to the floor and invites me to take off her panties. I peel them off her, revealing a bushy, precious secret. She blushes as I stand next to her and I slide my hand down between her legs and open her lips to expose her pearl, which I gently circle with my index finger when I find it. She melts in my arms. I know that must feel so good. With my other hand I unhook her bra and throw that on the floor. _

_She's completely naked. That's exactly how I like it. I think I'll toy with her for awhile with my clothes on. That's one of the best ways to let a woman know who's boss: make sure she's naked while you've still got your clothes on, but get her off a few times before you take your pants off and ask her to put your cock in her mouth. _

_I walk around her and survey her soft, feminine body. Curves in all the right places. That's good. Long brown hair falling down her back, just brushing against her bottom. _

_My fingers are tingling; I've never felt anything as soft as her skin and her hair...her gorgeous spirals of hair, and skin so smooth I almost can't believe it's real. Her hips...they're padded, but strong and wide. Her body is warm, like a woman's body should be...she smells like chocolate or coconuts...no perfume. No makeup tonight. Nothing false. I've never seen or touched a girl who wore so little falsities and still managed to be so...feminine...so near perfect feminine despite perhaps strong features that it isn't fair. It's not fair. I don't want to love anyone, but I'd love to love a girl like her... I'd love to let a girl like her love me, too..._

_Why won't she look at me?_

_"Look at me," I whisper to her. _

_"I don't like my face," she whispers back to me. _

_She giggles like she's embarrassed by herself, but she's so cute all I can do is kiss her, and I brush my lips against hers. I giggle, too...what a sweet little thing she is. _

_"How? You're exotic. You've got a pretty cat face."_

_She's got a strange, dreamy, far off face...but a warm smile. I'm on top of her now, balancing on my hands as she lies underneath me on my bed, and she's blushing..her lips are twisted up into a shy smile, she opens her eyes into slits...peering at me with the most endearing timidity I've ever felt from a girl's eyes. My stomach pains me as I look down at her...her creamy alabaster skin almost sparkling in the sunlight flowing in through my blinds, but it pains me because I find myself so nervous as I scan her with my eyes and realise that beneath me lies the sweetest, shyest, most timid girl ever, and she trusts me to take her virginity, and I never thought before that maybe I'd want her to enjoy it.. I run my hands over her soft belly pillow... I've never been with a girl her size before in my life. She isn't a sloppy fat girl. No, not at all. She's soft, you know. Just a layer of padding, and I've never felt anything quite like her body. I've just never met such a perfectly curvy creature in England. They come from southern Europe, usually. _

_I squeeze her soft breasts and play with her hard rosebud nipples. She writhes in my grasp, and moans like she's a little whore just for me, and I reward her for being such a good little girl by kissing down her little tummy and over her thick, milky thighs, and I listen as her breathing quickens. I can smell the musky, earthy scent of her pussy so close to my face, and it's unshaven... it's perfectly new and unsullied, a pink, juicy treat buried between two furry gates. I nuzzle my lips and the tip of my nose against it, tickling her clit and my own face at the same time. She writhes, helpless and in ecstasy, as I flicker my tongue against her and then take a minute to run my lips over her inner thighs. I spread her soft pussy lips and let my tongue circle her swollen, throbbing clit, and she buries her hand in my hair as her hips rise and fall. _

_"You taste so sweet, pretty girl," I say, and she smiles as she looks away from me. The way she squirms as I taste her sweetness makes me even more hard, and I start to suck on her protruding hip bones, right under where her soft pouch stops and I am in awe of this virginal, plump Greek goddess that's lying in my bed now getting her sweet swollen clit sucked on for the first time. She's moaning like a cat in heat, breathing so fast she's almost panting. Her hands flap against the bed before she grabs at my sheets and her legs go limp. Her lower body shakes and trembles, and as she goes rigid I know I've made her cum._

_I'm definitely gonna play with her again. This one's gonna be regular for a little while, and if I've got to play at being her boyfriend to make that happen, that's okay._

_Now it's my turn._

_I push her onto my bed, and I unbuckle my belt._

_"Pull down my pants and underwear, Maisie." I'm on my knees, she's bent over on her knees, and she lowers my clothes and I can see her staring at my erection in wonderment. She's trembling, unsure what to do with me, as she stares at my cock and runs her hand over it. I double over with pleasure just from that one touch...I want her so bad I can taste it. _

_"What do I do with it?" I reach down and rumple her pretty brown hair. _

_"Just put it in your mouth, baby. Suck on it." I close my eyes and I can feel her little mouth sliding up and down my cock. I am gonna let her go for a little while, but then it's time for the main event. I'm so hard thinking about what it'll feel like to fuck a virgin. I take her head in my hand and gently push her mouth down on me. She struggles as I can feel my length pushing against her throat. She's scared, unsure what she's supposed to do with my cock that deep in her mouth. I want to feel it gagging her, deep in her throat and showing her exactly what it means to be the little whore she's trying so hard to be. _

_She gags as I push my cock further in, and she pulls away, but I stroke her cheek and help her relax her throat...just like I was taught...and I see tears slowly streaming down her scared face. She relaxes her throat and as her tears flow I push myself further in and I clench as I can feel the tight hole of her throat around my cock. If I let her keep going I'll cum before we can fuck, so I'm gonna stop now. I pull her head away and she coughs as I stare into her tear-stained eyes. She's afraid, but I can tell she's excited. I kiss her full on the mouth, not caring if I can taste myself. Something about those big scared eyes full of tears makes me want her all that much more. _

_ "Lie down, Maisie. I'm gonna put it in now, okay?" She lies down, and I can hear her breathing heavy. I see her chest rise and fall with the hysteria of fear. I bet she has no idea what to expect from me or from this. I wonder how much she even knows about what I'm about to do with her. _

_"I'm scared though, Roger. Will it hurt?" Ugh. I don't have time for this: I need to cum. Maybe this was more trouble than it's worth._

_"It hurts for a second, but then you'll get used to it. And then you'll like it. Relax, sweet girl. You'll be okay."_

_I position myself in front of her spread legs and use some oil I have nearby on myself and her opening to help make it easier for her to receive me. She clenches as I dip my finger inside her hole, and I can smell how afraid she is. She's trembling, and so I stroke her hair one more time to calm her. I wish I could be gentler, but I don't really know how. I've never had to help a girl calm down before sex. Even the girl I lost my own virginity to wasn't a virgin. _

_What if she isn't okay with this? What am I supposed to do? Do I stop, or do I try to talk her through it? What do I say if she cries? Is it wrong to just keep going if it feels good and hope she'll get used to it? I have no idea. I don't think I want her to cry, though. She's too cute to just throw her out of here like I always do when they start crying. I guess I'll just do what I always do, but try to go slow._

_I start to push my cock inside her tight hole. Man, she's so tight. I can't even handle myself; I might cum really fast, which would be good for her because I can tell it hurts. She's wincing, clenching and lets out a few short, breathy pained moans. I might stop if I were a nicer guy, but I'm not. I like the way she's reacting. Makes me feel like my cock must be pretty good. But I … if she told me it hurt her I might have to. _

_I'm sliding in and out now slowly, and she's gripping my shoulders. Maybe it started to feel good for her, I wonder as she wraps her legs around me and pulls me into her with their strength. Oh, fuck, I'm getting close. She's just so tight I don't think I can hold on. _

_"Maisie, I'm gonna cum," I say, "Would you let me pull out and do it on your tongue?" She nods, and I pull her up and open her mouth with my fingers. She sticks out her willing tongue, and I release my load all over it. "Go ahead, baby, swallow it." She swallows my cum and she peers up at me, a newly lit flame of sexuality burning in her eyes that knocks me off my feet. In a way, she almost doesn't seem like the same girl. I reach out and touch her cheek; I don't think I can get rid of her yet. She's so willing, so...new. so eager. I could make her into anything I wanted. _

_"That felt good at the end," she whispers to me, her eyes wide and her lips pouted. She's out of breath and covered in both my sweat and hers, and her hair is in a mess on top of her head. I smile in spite of myself. I never feel this at ease after sex, it always ends up feeling as if I should throw the girl out and get on with my day. I never feel comfortable letting them stay with me, but... maybe she can stay. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad._

_"I told you it would. Do you want to lie with me for awhile?" _

_She lays down next to me and cuddles into the space between my arm and my chest. _

_Holding her is pretty nice. _

_Maybe I'll end up actually liking this one._


	33. Maisie - Cambridge, 1967

_I'm so excited!_

_Roger had been talking to me about something, something really personal, actually (that maybe I didn't want to have to learn so early on). I'm happy to let him talk because I think he's pretty interesting, the way that he thinks so much about so many things, and I don't think people really notice how smart he is. I don't really get to talk all that often, though. I guess maybe I'd like him to let me talk to him more. I have a lot to say, too! I think he doesn't know that I like the same things he does._

_Anyway…_

_I was listening to him go on, like I do, and he was surely going on, like he does. Then he actually finished a sentence and stopped talking, and he looked at me. He's been looking at me this way sometimes. It frightens me. It's sort of like he's trying to search me for something. His eyes are wide and intense, but when I meet his gaze he always looks away. I don't understand why he's acting so weird. I hope he knows I really like him, and I'm not pretending. I think sometimes he thinks I'm not really interested in him. Sometimes he'll ask what I see in him, anyway, or he'll ask why I keep coming around...he tells me he's nothing exciting. I disagree._

_I've been staying here because my aunt and uncle are terrible, and he felt bad and told me I could stay "for a few days". So it's been a few days, and I think we've had a nice time. I don't really know how to cook, but I've been trying, and he's been nice about it. I made him chicken the other night, but I'm afraid I burned it...he was really gracious, though, and ate it all anyway even though he teased me about it the entire time. And after dinner he smiled at me and he kissed me on the cheek, which is kind of weird because he never does that. Then he pulled away, but I wanted more...I pulled him back toward me and kissed him so hard so he'd know exactly how much I like him. When our lips met he held me so tight it hurt. His arms were tight around my body, like he was grateful I kissed him, or something, and when I pulled away he wouldn't let me go. I tried to get away, but he squeezed me a lot tighter. I couldn't get out from his grasp, but it didn't feel too bad…it was like if I were in jail, but the jail was really comfortable and had a big bathtub and a big bed with a plush comforter right in the cell. I let him squeeze me like that for awhile, and when he let me go he looked at me with that scared, searching stare: looking for something from me._

_"Do you want...to stay? I mean you don't have to go home at all if you don't want to." _

_And that's what happened tonight...Roger asked me to move in! Of course I said yes!!_


	34. Syd - Cambridge, April 2006

Maisie wants to get a dress for our wedding today, and I'm really excited because, well, I get to see her in a lot of different dresses, and because it just means that our wedding is getting closer and closer. It's only a week away now, and then we'll finally be married. Actually married. Wow. 

This is one of those times where I look at Maisie and I feel like I'm seeing her for the first time. That's the best feeling: when I look at her and I see her radiance and her beauty making everything else look dull and drab by comparison. The way the sunlight spills across her glistening silver hair, and the way it makes her eyes glitter a warm cinnamon color...I'm completely entranced. 

"You're the most beautiful woman in the world," I whisper to her. She laughs but playfully shoves me only a bit.

"You're a flatterer." 

"No, it's the truth." She slips her arm through mine as we walk down the street, and that's when I notice it: another idiot with a camera. I'm so sick of this. I haven't been in the public eye since the '70s. I've been trying to separate myself from all of that and focus on living the best, most peaceful life I can, but these people just can't seem to leave me alone. I catch them every so often. A lot of them will leave me alone after I ask them to politely, but that's only when they come up and try to talk to me. The ones with the cameras are the worst. 

"Are you alright?" Something tells me she hasn't noticed him over there. I motion my head toward the guy holding his digital camera, snapping pictures. She looks over that way and shakes her head, and as we walk closer to him I watch her walk toward him. I listen hard to what they're saying.

"Hi there," she says to him. He's a young guy, probably in his 20s. Definitely not old enough to have been alive when I was making music. 

"Hello," he says pensively. Maisie reaches out to shake his hand.

"Look, I know that you probably are a fan, and you're doing this because you love Roger's music and you are curious about him, but this man is my very dear friend, and all he wants is to be left in peace. If you're really a fan of his, or care about him and his art at all, I would ask you to please delete those photos and refrain from taking anymore. He's a regular person just like you are, just trying to live a quiet life. I'm sure you wouldn't like someone following you around with a camera." Nobody's ever said anything before, even Rosemary. She always told me just to ignore them, and that eventually they'd stop, but they never do. I see the guy looking into the camera, and Maisie watches as he deletes them all. What a relief. At least he was nice about it. Sometimes when it's the paparazzi it's useless. They're vultures.

"I guess you're right. I'm sorry. I was only trying to preserve the memory."

"You can always preserve the memory in your head, my friend." I love how she used my real name when she talked to him about me because I don't really go by Syd anymore unless it's Maisie or Roger that uses it. The further I can get from that name, the better. I don't want to remember who I was then. But when either of them say it I know it's out of love. That's just how they know me. Plus having two Rogers is a bit strange, isn't it? She says goodbye to him, and returns to me. I wrap her tight in my arms, right in the middle of the street.

"I love you," I whisper. These are the moments when I need to tell Maisie so she knows every day. Everyone says Valentine's Day is stupid because we should show our love to our partners every day, but so many people don't. Every day is Valentine's Day for me. Probably a lot of women would find it really annoying, but Maisie is so special because she never does. In fact, it makes her so happy.

There's a boutique across the street, and that's the store she wanted to go to. It's a nice one, and I think she will find something. I know she will because everything looks good on her, even the dirty t shirts and jeans she wears when she cleans the house. Those make her look so beautiful, too.

She promised me she'd let me see everything she tried on, so I'm excited. If there's anything I love doing it's looking at her. 

"Hi, we're getting married next week, and I'm looking for a dress." The saleslady, maybe 10 years younger than Maisie, looks excited at the prospect of a big sale. I'm so proud that Maisie told her we're getting married. No matter how many times I hear it I still think it's just a dream. Probably even after we're pronounced husband and wife I'll think it's not real. 

The two of them are looking at so many dresses. I wonder which one she'll choose; all of them are very pretty, but I don't like the long fussy ones much. The saleslady tries to show Maisie some of the very traditional floor length wedding dresses, but that's not what she wants; she told me before that she doesn't like them either. She wants something a little more casual and understated. I don't care what she wears. She could show up in a burlap sack and I'd still think she was perfect and that I was the luckiest man on Earth.

She tries on a lot of beautiful dresses, and they're all really pretty, but none are "the one". Maisie said that a woman always knows when a dress is the right one. I could have seen her wearing any one of them, but like I said...it's her I want to see, not what she's wearing. 

I hear her yell, "Oh, I found it!" I'm so excited to see what she looks like. She steps out of the fitting room, her hair pulled back into a high ponytail, and I see her wearing a beautiful ivory dress that's tight around her waist and chest, but the skirt is flowing and romantic, down to her knees, and the neckline is sort of low, but I don't mind. The sleeves are lace, and the part that covers her shoulders is too. I can feel myself breaking out into a stupid smile when I watch her leave the fitting room. She's ethereal. She looks like a goddess. And she's all mine for now. 

"I love it." The saleslady smiles as she watches us. We stand across from one another, I'm holding her arms and she's looking at me, her eyes full of something. I think it's love. I think she really loves me. 

I walk to the register and pull out my card, but she shoves me out of the way to pull out her own. If I had a sex drive, that might kick it into high gear. I see the lady staring after us as we walk out. I wonder if she's staring because she can tell how much we love each other, or if it's just because she knows who I am. I hope it's the former and not the latter.


	35. Maisie - Cambridge, 1967

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!

_Roger offered to come help me move out of the Hell Fortress today, so we're in his car. I don't have a whole lot of possessions I really want to bring with me, so it should be fine with just the two of us. I'm a little worried that my aunt will be home, or worse: her awful daughters. It looks like we're in luck as we pull up the driveway though: there's not a car in sight, including Patricia and Mary's cars. My cousins are older than me, and still bullies like they're still in school. They're horrible, and so I am beyond ready to leave here and move on with my boyfriend...my first boyfriend! I look over at him as the thought hits me one more time: this gorgeous, sexy, smart and talented boy is my boyfriend. Mine. There's a whole country full of beautiful girls here that would probably love to go out with a guy like him, but for some reason he picked me. Me. Can you believe that? I can't, because nobody has ever liked me before, and the first time someone does it's a guy like this. Maybe I'm not so fat and ugly. _

_He stops the car and before we get out I pull him toward me, and I kiss him with all of the feelings I can muster. I run my fingers through his hair and then he kisses my forehead. I stare into his sea green eyes, his funny mischievous little boy eyes. They remind me of a kid who's done something wrong, and who just thinks that thing is so funny, but won't tell anyone what it is. He wants me to figure out what it is, I think, and he wants me to think it's as funny as he does. I think I will when I finally find out what it is, if he ever likes me enough to share. Do you think he likes me? I mean, obviously he does, right? _

_"I really appreciate this. You didn't have to." He strokes my hair, and then tucks it behind one of my ears. His long, narrow face with his high cheekbones and full lips is the most amazing thing I've seen today. The drummer Nick has a girlfriend named Amelia who I like very much, and she told me I'm too pretty for Roger! She said the other guys laugh at him for being so gawky. I told her I thought he was gorgeous, and I do. I think he's just princely._

_"I wanted to. I'm excited for you to come. You don't deserve to be treated like they're treating you." _

_"Have you done this before? Lived with somebody."_

_His face clouds with solemnity, he looks down at his lap and starts to spin his silver ring with its brilliant green stone around his finger. With his eyes still off to the side he raises his head and gazes out at my aunt's ostentatious estate with its line of spruces along the property line at the bottom of a hill._

_"Yeah. Tons of times." _

_"You have?" He probably has, and he's thinking about an old girlfriend who broke his heart, or something, and that's why he looks so sad. He slides his hand through mine, and he gives it a slight squeeze as he shifts his gaze straight ahead._

_"Yeah. None of this is new to me. Do you really live here?" His eyes widen looking out at the house, and the guest house, the carriage house, the gazebo and all the other tacky stuff they have in their yard like that ugly poodle topiary._

_"Yeah, unfortunately. Do you want to see it?"_

_He unbuckles his seatbelt and opens his car door. I marvel at his long, long legs as he swivels them out the door and gets out. I get out too, and he holds his hand out for me to take. When I take it he pulls me into him, picks me up and puts me down on the roof of his car. I giggle as he pulls both sides of my face toward his._

_"Yes, but let's give the groundskeeper something to talk about," he whispers with a laugh as he kisses me. Our lips meet, and he brushes his tongue against mine. As he pulls apart I can feel myself blushing when we stare into one another's eyes. He holds my hand and helps me slide off of the roof of the car, and we walk toward this massive, unnecessary show of wealth, my aunt's house._

_Inside the endless front hall with its elegant Persian rug and all the wall hangings and potted plants he wanders, exploring everything while I hang back because none of it is special to me anymore. _

_Bored, I decide to show him my favorite place in the house._

_"Do you want to see the best room in the entire place?" _

_"What? It gets better?"_

_"This is nothing," I say as I take his hand and lead him down a long hall to my uncle's library, which I'm not supposed to be in, but I'm here all the time anyway. I push open the dark, pine wood door, and when we walk in i see Roger's eyes light up. He's so smart, I knew he'd love it here as much as I do. He wanders around looking at all of my uncle's books (and there are tons of them), and I watch as he walks over to a few and starts looking over the titles, telling me excitedly about all the ones he has read, or wants to read, and then he turns to me._

_"Have you actually read any of these? You said it's your favorite place, is that, like...have you read books like this?" _

_"Yeah, quite a few of them. I'm not supposed to be in here, but I always sneak in here and steal some, and them bring them back when I'm done." His eyes go wide with surprise again, almost like he wasn't expecting me to say that, but then again...he didn't know because he kind of talks more than he listens._

_"Really? Like which ones?" _

_"I have some up in my room. Do you want to see?"_

_"Sure. That's where we need to go anyway, right?" _

_We walk up the large winding grand staircase holding hands still, and he kisses me again at the top of the stairs, but this time his hand slides down my back. I wrap my arms around his neck after I pull away from his kiss, and I pull him into a tight embrace._

_"You're so amazing," I whisper to him, and he smiles at me as I pull back._

_"You shush, little girl. You don't even know me yet," he says with a wink as he taps my bum affectionately. We walk toward my bedroom: the smallest room, naturally, and his jaw drops when he sees that while no expense has been spared for the rest of the house, my room is very Spartan: there's not much on the walls, I've only got a cot mattress and a chest of drawers and closet for my clothes, and a trunk with all my important belongings in it. There's no beautiful paintings or statues in here. I unlatch my trunk and pull the three books I left in there out. I hand them to him, and he turns one, Das Kapitol, over to look at the back. When he looks up at me, his eyes again very wide with surprise, I answer preemptively:_

_"That's for a refresher, I read that years ago."_

_"You did not. Are you taking the piss?" _

_"I'm not sure what that means."_

_"Are you joking?"_

_"No, I'm not joking. I read that during a few days when I didn't go to school."_

_"A few...days?"_

_"Yes, as in eight hour school days, so it's not that impressive." After looking the rest of the books over, he hands them back to me, and he pulls me up by my hand. _

_"You're telling me I'm amazing, but you apparently don't know yourself. You're amazing. Who knew you were so smart?" My face is heating up as he wraps me in his arms, and he squeezes me, so I bring us down to sit on my bed because I can feel my lady bits sort of stirring with excitement. I don't know why my automatic response to him complimenting me is to feel like this, but…_

_"Do you feel like…" _

_Roger smiles at me and places a finger over my lips. I close my eyes as I feel the thrill I get every time he touches me._

_"Let's pack your things, and then move them to my car, and I've got the best parting gift we can give your wretched aunt and uncle."_

_We pack my suitcase and trunk full of all my clothes and belongings, including the books I had, but he takes five more and stuffs them in too. I laughed so hard when he pulled them out like it was nothing. Maybe if it were anyone else's house I'd feel bad, but since these are Uncle Frank's books I don't care. He deserves it. When we've moved everything from the house to the car (and after he's teased me for holding on to all my old diaries- he doesn't know that they're really not just diaries: they're the column I want to write someday), he grabs my hand and we run back to the house and up the stairs, and he turns his head toward the direction of my aunt and uncle's bedroom with a wink and a sneaky fox grin. _

_"Let's go," he says with a smirk, and I lead him by the hand to the master bedroom: the fanciest, most comfortable, most luxurious bedroom in the house with its very posh master bathroom with the marble bathtub. _

_Oh, this feeling is just the best feeling: I feel like I'm flying over the moon and free falling through space. My heart is beating so fast I could power a house with it, and my face is so hot...my stomach so achy, dizzy and upside down. Everything feels so heavy, but so light at the same time, and I am laughing so hard while we're running down the hall, and finally when we reach the bedroom I push the door open. He pulls me into the room, and throws me down onto their bed: a mattress sitting right on top of a slab of finished pine wood that also houses the nightstands, and those are both topped with these stupid blue art deco lamps with bases that look like brick walls. They've made the bed up to look all faux Japanese with rising sun symbols on decorative black pillows with gold borders and tassels on top of a white comforter with a horrendous red stripe down the middle. _

_Roger tears the decorative pillows off the bed while I'm giggling so hard my stomach is cramping, but I can't stop! He throws them out the bedroom window, and down into the pool in the backyard. He tears his t-shirt off, throws it on the floor, and pulls one of the lamps out of the wall._

_"This is a fucking horrendous lamp. Both of them, absolutely awful. No fucking taste." _

_I'm laughing harder and harder as he tosses one of the lamps out, too, and I hear it land in the pool with a loud splash, and then tears a painting off the wall and snaps it in half, and throws that out too. I'm kicking my legs, still giggling so much it hurts as he jumps on top of me and starts kissing me wildly. I throw my legs around his hips and my arms around the back of his neck, and I'm still laughing as he kisses over my neck and my jawbone, my ears, my cheeks and my lips. When we pull apart for a moment I stop laughing because I notice the look in his eyes, and I don't know what to make of it: it's intense, but not threatening. I don't feel unsafe, but I do feel so excited I could scream. _

_I stare up into Roger's eyes, my arms draped over my head, and I see his lips twist into another sly, sneaky grin._

_"I am going to fuck you so hard right here in this bed," he whispers to me as he slips my shirt over my head. I'm moaning a little now as I sit up and he unclasps my bra, leaving my breasts bare and vulnerable before him. I lie down on my back and stare longingly at him as he slips his jeans off and his boxers and reveals his long, girthy raging erection. I know I’ve never seen another one before, but I think his is probably objectively really, really nice. Gloria once told me that somebody told her that tall, lanky guys have the best cocks._

_ He crawls back up toward me, and I feel his cock brush against my leg as he takes hold of my pants and tugs them off along with my pink panties. Now that we're both naked he throws me around until the bedding is all balled and bunched up, and I'm laughing the entire time. He pulls me underneath him with a grunt and sticks his hand between my pussy lips to rub my clit while I squirm and squeal._

_"Roger…" I moan as I close my eyes and focus all my energy on the way it feels when he touches me, when his lips slide across my skin and when his hot breath lands on my shoulders, lips, neck, and when his hands explore my breasts, my nipples, my stomach, my hips. I can tell how wet I am, so wet we don't need lube, which is good because I don't want to miss out on being able to feel his cock inside me. I pull his face down toward mine, and I kiss him with every bit of desire I feel: every pang and tingle of need that I feel pass through me. "I need you, Roger, I need you," I whisper through each breathy moan that escaped my lips as I feel his girth pushing inside me. _

_"You're so tight," he moans, and though I feel so, so good, I wish he told me he needed me, too. We smash our bodies together, colliding every time he thrusts into me, and he grabs a hold of my hand. I welcome him into me with a squeeze of his hips with my thighs and his bottom with my calves. I need every inch of him deep inside my body as we cover every part of this tacky bed with our sweat, and as I pull him deeper into me with my legs I can feel his hips jerking as he clenches his eyes tight. "Watch this," he says through a pleasurable grunt, and he pulls out of my pussy and lets his cum shoot all over their bed._

_I break out into laughter again, and he collapses next to me in a heap of sweat and exhausted breath, but only for a minute before he's pulling me up again toward the bathroom. _

_"Bath?" He asks, tilting his head toward Eugenia's marble bathtub that she doesn't deserve. I nod with enthusiasm, and he runs the bathwater. "You like it pretty hot, right?" When I nod he adjusts the temperature of the water, and then leads me to the bathtub, and we get in. I can tell this bathtub was meant for two people to be able to lie together in, and so when we get in he does pull me down to lie with him, the hot water gently blanketing our bodies. _

_"That was so fun," I coo with a little laugh as he lets his fingers trace my cheekbones and my jaw and lips. His eyes are serious, the expression on his face searching, curious and something... something else that I don't know how to define. _

_"Yeah, well... it was the most polite thing I could have done for them," he whispers as his hand wanders to my hair and he smiles at me, his cheeks reddening. "Nobody fucks with my girl. Nobody." _

_Now, I move my hand to his face, allowing my fingers to savor his sharp cheekbones and his full lips, and the corners of his mysterious eyes. _

_"Am I really your girl?_

_"Yeah, Maisie, you're my girl."_

_We share one more kiss, but this time it's slower and more serious. _

_When our bath becomes tepid we get out, find our clothes, dress and leave, and I've never felt so good before._


	36. David - Cambridge, 1967

_Maisie doesn't look happy. I wish I could help. I can see that when she comes with Roger to practice she looks sad, almost depressed. I can't stand it. I wish I could help her. The worst part is that when she does smile it's because Syd is talking to her. Is he really going for it? He doesn't even care that Maisie is Roger's girlfriend. That's the difference between he and I, I guess. I'm gonna try to wait until I'm pretty sure they're going to break up, and then I'll shoot my shot. _

_But with Syd in the way, it looks like the time to act is now. _

_I approach her, finally, after weeks of kind of debating it and convincing myself it's a shit idea. I've pretty much decided that I'm going to talk to her and then the next time I see her I'll put a note in her bag. I'm terrified to actually say anything about how I think she's so cute and how I want to know her better, and take her out, and stay up all night talking to her and listening to her. _

_"Hey." What a lame line. She smiles, though. Really, I have a lot more to say, I'm just not good at talking to girls._

_"Hi, David. How are you?" She looks at me and I want to die. She's so pretty, and I'm feeling like such an idiot because I don't know what to say. Think of something, David. Anything. Anything appropriate, anyway. _

_"I'm good. It's a good practice. Everybody's on their game today. The weather's nice, huh?" She giggles at me. I think she can tell I'm nervous. I wonder if she can tell I'm nervous because I really, really like her._

_"Yeah, I guess the weather is pretty nice." I'm about to open my mouth when I see Roger coming toward her, and then I clam up because I don't want him to know what I'm doing. Damn it. There goes that opportunity. He comes over and slings his arm over her shoulder like he knows there's another man interested. _

_He does, though, he just isn't aware there's two._

_He told me the other day that he knows Syd likes Maisie. The two of them are always joking around on the side, that is when Syd isn't tripping, which is becoming more and more frequent. I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to replace him at some point which is why they've brought me in. He's always got her smiling. I'm pretty jealous. I think Roger is, too. Roger's never lost a girl to Syd. If he lost her to me he'd absolutely never see it coming, though. _

_I haven't had a girlfriend for awhile. It's not that I haven't had opportunities; I just haven't met anyone I really like. Until a few weeks ago. And I've been in pain ever since. It's only getting worse now that I can see the way Syd looks at Maisie, and what's worse, the way I think she's looking at him. I'm gonna write her that note tomorrow. Maybe I'll even sign my name._

_Should I?_


	37. Maisie - Cambridge, 1967

_I wish Syd Barrett weren't so cute and funny. It's so terrible. I think I like him more than I like Roger, but Roger made it that way._

_He's been so cold to me lately. _

_Ever since we started having sex a lot Roger doesn't seem like he likes me very much anymore. He really likes me when he wants me to suck his dick in the bathtub or spread my legs for him at night, but he seems annoyed with me about every other time. _

_Except when Syd is around. Then Roger is really nice to me. He kisses me, and puts his arm around me like he's protecting what belongs to him. He tells me I'm beautiful, or brings lunch back for me, or squeezes my hand when no one is looking. If he were like this all the time I'd be in love with him by now. He's not, though. He doesn't care about me. He blocks me out of his study at night, and he yells at me when I forget to clean up before he gets home, and he won't hug or kiss me anymore when we are alone. He doesn't listen when I talk, and he barely talks to me anymore. I've cried myself to sleep because of how he treats me, even sometimes when he's lying next to me, but he's never noticed. I miss how we used to be, but lately I feel cold towards him, too. _

_Syd is beautiful. He's got beautiful black curly hair and a sweet face, and he is such a cool dresser. He's always trying to make me laugh. Roger barely leaves me alone when Syd is around. But today I got lucky: Roger, Nick, Rick and David all decided to take a break, and I think Roger assumed everyone else was just staying where we were because he left on his own. Just left me there. It's not like this is something that he only does sometimes, either. He walks away without me a lot. He just doesn't care about me._

_ Nick and Rick left pretty fast, but David lingered for a few minutes. I don't know what he was doing. He was over near the back of the room around everyone's things. _

_Syd comes and sits next to me. I kind of wish I weren't with Roger because I would fall head over heels in love with Syd. I only kind of like Roger now, but it's nice to have a cute, famous boyfriend who, you know, has sex good. When I first met him I thought he was the best guy I'd ever met. How wrong I was. _

_"Hey, Maisie." He smiles that adorable, boyish smile at me. I can't handle it! I look away so I can smile without him noticing. And boy, do I. I don't turn back to look at him until I'm done. But he's still smiling. I think he might like me. That would be nice, except not really. Well, it wouldn't be nice for Roger. It would be nice for me. _

_"Hi," I let the word fall out of my mouth or else I just won't talk to him. "You sound really good." I bat my eyes and I can feel my face growing hot._

_"Thanks. You look really pretty." I'm definitely blushing so hard right now. I hope everyone stays away for awhile. I push some of my hair behind my ear, and then Syd does it on the other side of my face. Oh, my god. He just touched me! I look up at him, and he smiles at me. He is just so confident, too. Not cocky like Roger. _

_"Thank you…" He's playing with my hair, curling it around his finger. _

_"You don't have to thank me. Are you busy with Roger later?" I can't even describe the way he's looking at me, but it's so exciting. It's almost like he's dangerous...but there's no way he could be. He's so sweet and friendly. _

_"Not yet, but I don't know what we are doing. Why?"_

_"I'll be in the park if you're free. I hang out there a lot of nights." Maybe I'll actually try to be there sometime. Maybe not tonight...I want to make him wonder. But I'll go sometime. What would we do there? What does he do in the park by himself? Roger said Syd does too much acid ...maybe that's what he does in the park? I hope not. If that's the case that would be disappointing. I turn my attention back to him. I want to touch his hair, too._

_Oh, no. I'm pretty sure someone's back. _

_I hear David chatting with Nick and Syd drops my hair with a flirty wink. It's weird, the way David's acting having spotted us sitting together. Maybe he's just feeling defensive of Roger, or something, but he looks really serious. I hope he doesn't say anything to Roger about it. _

_I feel Roger's hands on my shoulders from behind me, and I turn around to look at him. He smiles, I smile, I'm bored. You don't get to be nice to me only in public. I wish people knew what a jerk he can be. Syd is his best friend, so he probably knows. Maybe I'll ask him when I meet him in the park sometime. Roger kisses me, but I wriggle away. I don't like to kiss him anymore._

_They start playing again, and I figure I'll step outside to reapply my lipstick. I'm fishing through my purse, but what's that? A paper? That's weird. It's just a regular piece of notebook paper that was obviously torn haphazardly out of wherever it came from. I open it up._

_The handwriting is remarkably nice for what I assume is a guy._

_~Your eyes are so pretty. I wish you'd turn them toward me more often. I wish I could find a way to tell you that I think about you too much, but I get so nervous when I'm around you that I can't find one.~_

_No name signed. _

_It has to be from Syd. Roger wouldn't do something so romantic, and I don't really know the other three guys well, plus Nick is married already and Rick has a girlfriend. I read it over and over as I lean my back against the brick wall outside. I smile to myself thinking about how nice it will be for Syd and I to have this little secret from Roger. _


	38. Rick - Cambridge, 1968

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick is our "Greek chorus" character - he's here to provide witty commentary and make fun of everyone. He was a late addition, and I hope you like him!

_Well, isn't this just all a mess? Who would have thought that my band full of shy, serious middle class kids from Cambridge would get all fucked up over a girl? I suppose that's what happens, isn't it? Anyhow… it's a bloody awful mess. I don't know what Roger is thinking bringing all these girls around all the time. He parades them around like fucking pack horses behind him, or maybe like they're dogs, but it seems to me that it was never an issue for us before now._

_There was never one of Roger's girlfriends that Syd liked. They didn't cross those lines. Both get more girls than any of us ever did before we got paired off (Nick and me). Poor David can't even figure out what to say to them. He's like a stump when girls come around, all stupid and stiff like that. Anyhow, Roger and Syd get more girls than any of us, and so there's never been a time when it posed a problem. But now, you see, Syd hasn't dated anyone since his loony evil girlfriend Lindsay threw him away and left him stranded at a party because he wouldn't come out and talk to anyone. So he's in a prime state to start coming around to girls again, and it just happens to coincide with Roger bringing his new girlfriend to practice without asking anyone first. And of course, she's disgustingly fucking cute, and it's a breath of fresh air after ten thousand carbon fucking copies of the same sexy skinny blonde chick over and over, all with the same names. Patty, Christina, Nancy, blah, blah, blah. Nah, this one is the type of small shy one you feel protective over, the kind with big scared eyes, and that will hook a man like nothing but a bare pair of tits. Roger does not go for that type. I think she's more David's speed, personally, but what do I know? Roger goes for the ones that look like models. His personal image is so fucking important to him you'd think he had no substance because it's all about the surface. He's one weird looking chap, he has no business with the blonde goddesses or the brunette schoolgirls. (She dresses like she's still in school, it's a very endearing habit because it adds to the little lamb thing she's got going on). Meek, shy, unsure, clinging to Roger...it was a recipe for disaster, and now Syd is in rare form doing his mating dance._

_Both of them always get the girl, so ultimately one of them is going to prevail, but who? I don't know. Do you have a guess? If I had to hazard a guess, personally I would eliminate both Syd and Roger and pick David. Quiet bookworm, meet quiet musician. Introverted girl, meet introverted boy. Helpless damsel, meet your guard dog. Guard dog, meet your damsel. That's the one to keep an eye on: David. Total dark horse, I know, but I've met all of the girlfriends of all three, and she doesn't fit the profile of anyone but David. Roger likes glamorous model girls, Syd likes crazy party girls with a lot of makeup and a pocket full of acid, and David? He likes the one that wants to be in the library instead of at a party. David likes the girls who stay home on weekends, and who bake cookies (she does). The girls who can't talk to boys. Maisie's that specific girl. She's that specific quiet, aloof, mysterious vulnerable type of girl, the girl a protective strong silent type would want to rescue. In my opinion, she's nice, and very pretty, but I don't want to try and crack anyone's hard nut shell to make her comfortable even talking to people so I don't find her personality particularly attractive. I'm committed to my girlfriend anyhow. _

_I suppose, however, that I could be wrong about David. Let's take a look at the scene unfolding in front of us, hm? We've come to Grantchester Meadows today, all of us, girlfriends and all, to have a picnic after a surprisingly productive practice. The girls made lunch and everyone's sitting on one side of the river except Maisie, Syd and Roger. I can't hear them, but I do notice that Roger is standing a distance off watching Syd make Maisie laugh (as usual). He looks unexpectedly ... crestfallen. He looks like a big skinny scarecrow over there with his back bent and his shoulders slumped with the head down, all the stupid things he does when he's actually himself when he thinks no one is looking (I don't look away from a train wreck ever...how can anyone avoid the temptation to look?). His hands are buried deep in his pockets, and I wonder what he's thinking because he looks positively crushed._

_Can I just stop for a second to point out that Roger tries so hard to dress like Syd, to write songs like Syd, and to be around Syd all the time? Can we perhaps talk about how pathetic that is? We joke that Roger has a crush on Syd behind his back because before Maisie they always spent time together without us and Roger just seemed... smitten. And everyone knows Syd likes boys too, and we just don't make a fuss over it. So yes, that's an in joke me Nick and David have. Don't tell Roger, please. No one wants to deal with the drama of him being embarrassed. I also do quite like him sometimes when he's not being so Roger about things._

_But yes, back to our silly little love triangle. There's Syd and Maisie, now sitting over by the water and a big patch of orange lilies. She has her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms hugging them, her burgundy pleated pants hiding what we all know is a nice, plump Marilyn Monroe figure. She's wearing a black sweater over a white blouse with her hair in low pigtails. No makeup. Syd is stretched out and leaning on his hands behind his back, looking up at the sky. He's of course decked out in all of the colors ever and is wearing flower print bell-bottoms. He's looking over at Maisie now. They smile at each other, their eyes caught on one another, and Syd puts on his wide, silly little boy smile where he shuts his eyes tight. Maisie laughs again, and he says something that was probably very nice to her because she covers her mouth and looks the opposite way, hiding what I know is a beaming smile. _

_Neither of them notice poor, pathetic Roger over there now sitting and watching them, twisting his ring around his finger and tearing grass out of the ground. I watch as he curls into himself, resting his face on his hand, his elbow leaning on a bony thigh. It's obvious to me that he likes her more than he ever lets on, even to her, and so I feel sort of bad for him, don't you? _

_That's when I notice Syd on his knees near the lily cluster, tearing a flower right off with a little bit of the stem still attached. Oh, no. This is gonna seal the deal. Roger's doomed. Syd's tying the wild orange lily in her hair right in Roger's line of sight while he looks on like a sad little kid no one invited to play. I should go sit by him. I'm starting to stand up when he walks right over and sits next to Maisie. After looking her over for a moment, and after his cheeks flush red admiring the way she looks with that flower in her hair, he stretches out his arm and pulls her into him, and he turns her face to kiss her, but god damn she squirmed out of his grasp after a few seconds. Syd glares. That scary thunder glare he has sometimes, that's the one. _

_Oh, bloody hell, this is going to be so bad._

_Eh. Let's watch the world burn. It is gonna be bad, but it's gonna be pretty fun._


	39. Roger - Cambridge, 1968

_I'm so uncomfortable._

_I don't usually sit with Maisie on the couch when I'm relaxing and playing my bass. I guess tonight I just didn't feel like sending her away. Who knows why? I crave my solitude and I really would rather push Maisie out than keep her, but tonight I suppose it's not so bad for her to be here. _

_I can feel her presence even though I won't let myself look at her. I don't really want to see her... what would that mean, if I looked at her for a long time? If I maybe could just study her exotic Arabian face (how'd a white woman get to look so foreign? Does anyone else see that?)_

_Her presence is soft. Quiet. Off somewhere else. She's far away from me, but I'd like her to come back to Earth for a moment. It's like she's here with me, but it doesn't feel bad this time. It's always felt bad, having girls around. She's reading a book over there...is that 1984? That's interesting. I wouldn't have thought she'd be reading that. I've been meaning to read it myself._

_Back to my bass, I guess, but first I think there might be some more to look at here. The way she's so focused on her book...the way she's curled her shapely legs under herself...the occasional push of long loose hair behind her ear. The faraway look of concentration... blissfully unaware of my gawking interest. _

_What am I looking at?_

_What am I doing?_

_My cheeks are hot for some reason. _

_Why am I having trouble breathing now? My heart's racing, what is this? She's scaring me. She's just a girl. Just a girl like every other one I parade along like string toys until I'm bored. There's always a new one. I move through them like I move through alcohol: too fast. _

_Last night I heard her crying softly next to me while she thought I was sleeping, but I was wide awake remembering how it felt when...when he did the same. When he was here with me, and I had yelled at him even though I knew he was so fragile and people yelling at him made him cry. The next day he left, and he wouldn't stay with me anymore, but somehow he came back and told me he wanted to be friends. And now she's here, and it's the same situation as that, including how I wanted to hold her while she cried, just like I did him, but I couldn't bring myself to. I couldn't bring myself to apologise, either, because I don't want to have to deal with how it feels to have to be vulnerable enough to apologise for what I said. When we lie together at night I can't sleep because sometimes it feels like torture trying to figure out what's bothering me so much about her. _

_How long has it been now? It's been about five months. Five months? This never happens to me. Why's she staying here with me? She's still here, and they never stay; I've been dumped and dumped girls an equal amount. But Maisie's stayed, and I suppose I'm …apprehensive, maybe even on guard. I don't understand what she could possibly see in me; I'm wretched. I'm sour, and off-putting... negative, they say. _

_She's caught me looking at her. Fuck. She's looking back at me: what do I do, or say? Is there anything that's gonna save me from being humiliated?_

_"Yeah?" She puts her book down, and it rests open on its pages as she turns to me like my gaze is a burden she has to shoulder. Her eyes look stony, they're cold and hardened to me. It hurts. Why does it hurt so bad, the way she looks at me?_

_"It's nothing. I just…" I can give her one compliment. It's okay. It wouldn't kill you to be nice to this girl, asshole. _

_"... okay." She moves to pick up her book and returns to her reading. I guess I better sort of act fast before I lose my will._

_I swallow an entire breath and finally fucking spit it out._

_"I just...I think you're really pretty, Maisie." For a moment she blushes, but she swallows that too. "I'd like to kiss you." That was so hard to let out. I don't give her enough time to consider it before I lean in, and angle my head toward her lips, and the second they brush hers my eyes pop open. Hers do, too... and we linger in our shared gaze for a moment...mine probably surprised, hers scared of letting me be close to her. She pulls away first and then curls up into herself and crosses her arms like I've just totally violated her, which I hadn't. This is miserable. One kiss? I can't get one? You're telling me she won't let me have one kiss, one time…I'm her boyfriend. She's my girlfriend. Why won't she kiss me? _

_Would it be so bad for me to kiss you, really?? Would it be so awful to kiss me? I don't know why you won't let me do it anymore. You have such nice full lips, and I want you so much. _

_Whatever._


	40. Syd - Cambridge, April 2006

We're getting married tomorrow. I'm so nervous, and I'm terrified, but I'm also so happy. Ian brought a few of my male friends over for the evening (even though I really wanted Kathy here he said it was men only...that's dumb), and Maisie went out with Rosemary. I think Maisie is going to stay with her tonight. It's some kind of superstition. I don't know. I hope I can sleep even though I'll be alone. It's been awhile since we slept apart. I'm so used to her body next to me when I sleep.

The people who we've told have agreed to be quiet about it, but people on the street have probably seen me kissing and hugging Maisie in public. The people of Cambridge have been very respectful and even protective of me, though, and so I trust them to keep a secret from prying "fans", which unfortunately, there are too many of. 

I look at the clock. It's 9:30. I wonder what Maisie and Rosemary are doing. Is she having a good time? I'm trying to. I haven't had a drink in a long time because Maisie doesn't like drinking or cigarettes, so I'm being careful, but I decided to have a glass of whiskey and Coke because Maisie said it would be okay to drink a little bit, just not enough to get drunk. She said that if I get drunk after not drinking for a long time I could overdose by accident. I wouldn't want that to happen, obviously, so just one drink is fine, even though my friends aren't being quite so good, and they're teasing me for not being pissed like they are. I don't want to be, anyway. I pull my phone out of my pocket and open it to send Maisie a text.

_I miss you so much. I wish you could come home. _

Maybe it will make her smile. We haven't spent a night apart since January. It's April now. April 15th is our wedding day. My phone dings.

_I don't want to sleep without you tonight. But after tomorrow we'll never be apart again, I promise._

I must have given myself away with a big smile because my friends start to tease me. 

"She texted you, did she?" My friend Ben slaps me on the back.

"She did." 

"You're gonna have a fun night tomorrow night, my friend. The wedding night's the best night, I hear." I suppose he means sex? If either of us wanted that I'm sure we would have done it already. It's not that I don't find Maisie attractive... if I had any sex drive she'd be the only one I wanted that way. As it is she's the last woman I ever touched, and I'm very proud of that. The last time I had sex was with Maisie in 1969. A week later I broke and I hurt her so bad she left. Since then I haven't been with anyone in that way. I've never even had another date, or flirted with someone else, though I've been solicited by prostitutes because they knew I was always alone, but I never even bothered to talk to them. So if I wanted to have sex, I'd want to do it with the last woman I ever did it with, on the night of our wedding. But I don't. I don't have that drive anymore. Years of going without have left me without desire. If she wanted to I'd try to find a way, though, but I don't think she does. She's never talked about it or felt dissatisfied because we weren't having it. 

"Yes, lots of it." I'll let him think that because there's no reason he should know the truth. It's none of his business. I wish I could still feel sexual desire. I know that Maisie does. She told me that she still took lovers before we got back together, but Maisie always loved sex so that's why I worry. I wish I could satisfy her that way. When we were young she used to like the way I touched her. I used to make her have intense orgasms that tired her out, and she did the same for me. If I could get it back I'd make love to her for as long as she wanted me to, even if it hurt me. I'd stay up all night doing to her whatever she asked for. And I'd do it until I was too weak to keep doing it. But that's not an option. Even if she were naked in front of me, touching herself, begging for me I don't think I could make myself work again. And up until now, I had no desire to. Because I love Maisie so much that it transcends that.

Is that difficult to understand? It seems like a hard thing for most people to understand: loving someone so much that it's beyond any kind of earthly desire... it's the most pure love you could ever feel. 

I'm sad to be married without Roger there. But then I remember that I've spent years thinking fondly of Roger, but he's only reached out to me a handful of times, and he's never come to visit me. So why do I even want him there? I don't think I'm even going to tell him about it. He'd probably tell a bunch of people.

All I have to do is make it through the night without my love.

Did you know my nephew tried to get me to allow him to have a woman come here to take off her clothes? I got so angry at him! I'd never disrespect my wife that way. I don't care if it's "normal": it's complete and utter disrespect. Any man who would disrespect the woman he loves that way doesn't deserve her, and I told Ian that. He was offended because he had a woman at his stag party to do that, but I told him back then too that I didn't like it, and I left the party for that.

"Imagine some woman falling for you, Roger. You're a lucky man." Women are sometimes so much nicer to be around than men are. He's only jealous, you know. He's my age and he has also never married and been chronically single. But not only did I find someone, my someone is the one who got away. He'd never get Peg back, he knew that. But then again, so did I. I just knew Maisie was never coming home, but she did. Maybe he could get Peg back. But he won't call her. I called Maisie. That's the difference. So he shouldn't be jealous of me. He should call her. I don't need him to remind me of what I look like, by the way. I've stopped caring. I'm happier looking the way I do now than I ever was when I was young and looked the way people prefer to remember me. 

"I'm very lucky, indeed. I've felt a lot of pain in my life, and there must be a god because after all that to have her back in my life and marrying me tomorrow is a blessing. I couldn't ask for anything more. And I know I'm not much to look at, thank you very much."

"Hey, mate, I'm not much to look at either, but nobody's agreed to marry me. So my teasing is only jealousy. I wish I could find someone, to be honest with you."

"Maisie isn't just someone. She's the love of my life." My friends have always thought I was hung up. I was. I am. Maisie is my beloved mistress: I've waited with tireless devotion for her to return, and never strayed from her or let my heart drift from her, even for one second no matter how many beautiful women are out there. And David can whine all he wants and write songs about her and be as melancholy as he wants about losing the relationship, but I'm the one who tried. David never tried. Maisie told me that in 20 years he's never called. Not once. It has been heartbreaking for her. But I called. I'm the one who followed after she walked away, and he is the one who not only fucked himself and Maisie over, but also his innocent wife that had nothing to do with any of it and who believed she had a totally devoted husband. Maybe you never physically strayed, David, but you certainly were emotionally unfaithful to your wife, and I hope she finds out and gets away from you. Also because I want you to take care of Maisie. So please get divorced.

But I'm glad I hung on the way I did. If I'd given up I'd never have taken a chance on asking her to come back, and then I'd still be all alone. I'd have spent my life wondering whether she'd ever come home, but I never would have done anything about it. So being "hung up" like my friends say has done me a favor. I'm not alone anymore, and my favorite person in the entire world let me have a second chance. Tomorrow afternoon I'll be married to the only woman I've ever really, truly loved. How many people can say that? Certainly not my rival. 

David can't be a devoted husband, but I've never been anything else.

Only a few hours...


	41. David - London, September 2006 - The Hotel

What am I going to do?

For some reason, my eyes are drawn back to the star necklace resting against Maisie's throat. I can't really understand why I'm so fascinated by it. There's nothing outwardly special about it, but I keep thinking that there's got to be something about it that I'm not being told. Which is fine...she doesn't have to tell me everything. If there's some kind of a secret though I wish she'd trust me enough to tell me.

She's asleep in my arms again, finally. We always cherished sleeping together and waking up together and wasting time in bed in the morning. This is exactly what I've been dreaming of for 20 years, and yet I'm filled with worry. I really need to relax and just enjoy the feeling of being in bed with the one I love again. 

That's the issue, maybe, or one of them. Now that I'm here, and Maisie and I are together, I don't want to go home. I want to see my children, but I don't want to go home to my wife. I'm going to have to reevaluate things at some point. If this is how I feel about my marriage, should I really be in it? I think I'm too much of a coward to actually leave my wife. But she deserves better. She deserves a man who loves her the way that I can't. 

I look down at Maisie and stroke her soft hair. We've both changed so much, but not enough for it to change anything between us. I bet if we went back to that island we'd still be the same. I hope she doesn't know I fully intend to take her there, but it's going to be a surprise. Of course I remember where it is. I memorized it. You see, when you have an experience like that, that's almost religious, you don't forget a thing about it.

It's been a long time since I've felt relaxed and at peace. It's been a long time since I haven't missed her. It's been a long time since I've gone to bed not wondering where Maisie was sleeping. I know I told her that the best part of this all would be to wake up to one another, and that's true, but I'm afraid that when I fall asleep I'll wake up and this will all be over. I'll have to go back home, Maisie will have to go back home, too. And then what? I was serious about buying a house in Maine. I'm not going back to how things were. Last time I blew my chance. You don't get second chances in life. We've been lucky in that we have gotten one, and I won't waste it this time. 

I don't know how I'm going to get my wife to agree to me getting a second home just for myself, but I'll figure it out. If I can't buy a house I'll just find a hotel to stay in. Or I'll fly Maisie out here. We'll make it work. We have to. 

"Maisie…" I whisper into her ear, "I don't know if you can hear me now, but I promise you that I will never, ever let you get away again. Even if I've got to uproot my entire life, you and I are going to be together. It'll be exhausting sometimes. I won't get to see you as much as I'd like. We won't have holidays. But I'll always come back for you, or bring you to me. Please be patient, and please don't leave me again. Don't make me go six months with you, never mind 20 years." I lean over and gently kiss her sleeping head, which is nestled in close to my body. I turn her onto her side and pull her into me. We still fit together.


	42. Syd - Cambridge, April 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding!!!

It's 8:00 am. Maisie is going to meet me at the courthouse in an hour...and then we are getting married!

I'm getting married. I'd about given up on ever knowing love from any woman again; I'd accepted that I'd become something no woman could ever love besides my mother and sister. No one would want washed up, crazy, fat old Syd Barrett who dropped out of reality and was put away in a bin for years. No one could love a monster like I thought I was. But she came back, and she loved me. 

I know I say it a lot, but I am in such shock still that she's returned to me. So much in shock, in fact, that I say it to myself every day just to accept that it's not a dream. And now I'm thinking about how she'll look in that beautiful dress. Maybe she will let me kiss her today. That's one thing I've never stopped thinking about: kissing her in the perfect way so she will know how much I love and adore her. I want to kiss her until she knows that I'd do anything that would ever make her happy. In this short time I have left I am going to dedicate myself to my hobbies and to loving my beautiful wife. 

"Come on, Uncle, let's get you dressed." Ian comes in and pats me on the back to get me out of bed. I should be ready by now. I've been lying here in bed listening to birds thinking about getting married instead of actually getting ready to get married. I get out of bed and Ian brings me a blue button down shirt with tan pants. I don't really have many fancy clothes, and Maisie asked me not to buy any because it isn't something she cares much about. 

We've just finished getting ready. I'm as dressed up as I can be, and I think I look nice. I hope she does, too. Ian's going to drive me to the courthouse to meet Maisie and Rosemary. My heart's racing!! It's a short drive, and when we pull up I see her there: she's wearing that beautiful dress she bought and has her hair up and is wearing pretty red lipstick. Ian hardly has time to stop the car before I jump out of it and find my way to her. I find myself standing in front of her: my beautiful Maisie. She pulls me in and we stand close together smiling knowingly at one another and tuning out the presence of everyone around us, which luckily is only a small handful of people. Only Rosemary and Ian will be present for the wedding though. 

"I'm so happy to be with you," I whisper in her ear. She kisses me gently on both cheeks, but stops before giving me a kiss on my mouth. I'm overwhelmed by the look in her eyes. That's a look I haven't seen since we were young: that look of adoration she used to give me when I was beautiful. 

"I'm lucky, you know, Syd. I'm very lucky. Many, many women would kill to have a husband like you." No one could understand the feeling I have right now. It's like I'm standing on top of the world and the only person standing with me is her, and we're about to climb to heaven together. She takes my hand and we walk into the courthouse, and I can't stop looking at her in that dress. I want to kiss her and never stop. The officiant is waiting for us in the front. She's a nice lady about our age, I've met her before. 

"What a beautiful day," she says, "Are the two of you ready to be married? How about we begin?" 

"I wrote vows I'd like to read," I say, pulling a paper out of my pocket.

"I was afraid you hadn't written any, because I also wrote some." She also pulls a paper out of her pocket. I was terrified that I'd put a lot of time into writing the perfect vows to read to Maisie, but that she wouldn't think of writing any for me, but she did. She also took time to write something for me. I knew Maisie loved me.

"Can I go first?" The officiant and Maisie both nod at me in agreement. I'm shaking with the force of my nervousness as I open up the paper and prepare to read everything I wrote on it.

"Maisie...I have no real words to describe the feeling I have when I think about how you came back home. It was so hard to call you back in December and ask you to come see me. I sat on making the decision for weeks, unsure of whether you would even want to hear from me after what I did when we were young, and terrified of how it would feel when you inevitably rejected me. But I never for one second stopped loving you. I've waited tirelessly and shamelessly for you for almost 40 years, convinced that you'd never condescend to even look at me again, but determined to wait so that if you did come back you'd know that I'd never, ever given up hope. You're my favorite person in the entire world. I love you so much that if I had to cross the ocean just to be with you I'd happily swim the entire way. In the past few months you've cared for me and you've asked for nothing in return, you've even asked me not to give you anything in return. How many mornings did I wake up intending to make you breakfast and bring it to you in bed only to discover that you'd already gotten up and started it, and also laid out all my medications? Not many people can say that the love of their life came home to them after they messed everything up, but I can say that happily and with pride. You are my precious treasure, Maisie. I'm honored to spend the rest of my days calling you my wife." I wish the sun shone in this room, but there are no windows. When she's in the sun she reminds me of a goddess who I want nothing more than to worship. It's not like in this room she looks any less beautiful: in fact, she looks more beautiful than she ever has because she is happy and it's our wedding day. I can feel my face heating up as she unfolds her paper, too. There's a look on her face, a shy, loving look that I want to paint so I can preserve this moment forever, and pull it out and look at it when I'm sad. 

"Syd, it was decidedly and surprisingly not difficult for me to choose to come here. I thought that it would be a lot harder to stay to help you, too, and I put up such a fight. I came here convinced that I would be able to resist falling in love with you, that I'd have no trouble making sure that I kept the door closed on our relationship. I lost that fight, though. I tried for a long time, but it was impossible to avoid. You are loving, devoted, kind, gentle, and content with the simple things in life, and I love all of that about you. I'm amazed by the man you have become. I think back to when we were young, and when we were first together, and I realize that the man that you are now is who I always knew you were underneath it all. You live every day to the fullest. Even if we do nothing but stay home and watch television and cuddle on the couch, that's what you are happiest to do that day, and you never take even those moments for granted. Your passion for life and the fact that in such a cruel and competitive world you are a diamond who radiates love, kindness and compassion were the things that made me realize that I wanted to be with you in the way I'd promised myself I wouldn't. I am honored to spend the rest of your days being your wife, and I am lucky to be able to call you my husband." I want to kiss her so bad. That was more than I ever dreamed she'd say to me today. The officiant lady asks us to join hands now. I think it's almost here… I think normally she would probably make a small speech in front of family and friends, but we only have two others present.

"Roger Keith Barrett, do you promise to love and cherish May Elizabeth Wells above all others, to care for her in her sickness, to support her and to always be faithful to her?"

"I do." I can feel myself beaming at Maisie. She knows I would do anything to give her all of that. 

"May Elizabeth Wells, do you promise to love and cherish Roger Keith Barrett above all others, to care for him in his sickness, to support him and to always be faithful to him?" 

"I do." And now she beams at me as if she is in as much of a state of bliss and ecstatic disbelief as I am. I hold both of her hands and try to read every single word that lives in her eyes when she looks at me, just like I must have a novel written in my eyes when I look at her and I see everything I've ever wanted. 

"By the power vested in me I now pronounce you husband and wife in the eyes of the law. You may now kiss your bride, Roger." I wasn't expecting to actually get a kiss...will she really do it? And then I feel her pulling me in, and I'm filled with joy and contentment and before she can pull me in close enough to kiss me I pull her right up against my chest, and I brush her cheek with my fingertips as I pull her face toward my own and kiss her in the way I've dreamt of kissing her for so many years, on so many different times, and for so many different reasons. With one hand I'm holding the back of her head, and with the other I'm gripping her waist, and she wraps both arms around my neck as she returns my kiss. Hers is filled with as much love and excitement as mine. When our lips part she places her hand upon my face, and then offers it to me to take. We walk together out of the courthouse and enter into a beautiful spring day. The spring birds are singing, the sun is bathing every inch of my beautiful hometown of Cambridge and my new wife, and the streets are bustling with people who may stop and stare at us, but I don't care. We kiss once more as I notice Rosemary and Ian standing next to us, Rosemary holding a camera and taking pictures of us.

This is one time that I don't mind.


	43. Maisie - London, September 2006 - The Hotel

I just woke up, still in David's arms, in tears. I can't believe this. This has been happening every night for the past two months, but I thought that maybe I'd be able to avoid it tonight because I'm with David.

Looks like I wasn't able to avoid it.

It's that weight again: that ten ton weight that's stuck in both my stomach and my throat. The weight of missing him. It has hit me every single night since the morning he died. Every time it hits suddenly like the squalls we get back home; I'm never expecting it. It wakes me up in the dead of night; I can't escape it. It traps me in its thorny clutches, this sinking but bottomless feeling of knowing that I'll never see my darling husband again.

We'll never take another walk, I'll never feel his arms around me at night, and I thought that sleeping next to David would help, but it's not helping. It's not making it worse, but it's not helping. I'll never sit next to him on the couch again, cuddled close to his chest, watching the television or just sitting together. He'll never call me "my Maisie" or "my Queen" or "Silly Whim" again, and I don't ever want anyone else to say those things, even David. 

And we'll never kiss before bed, and when we wake up, and every other time during the day that the mood struck us, which was often. He'll never pull me aside to whisper something sweet to me again when we are out together, or tie lilies in my hair, or anything else we ever did together, and I am heartbroken. I need to get up and go to the bathroom before I wake David up with my crying. I can't begin to explain to him what's wrong because I still haven't told him anything yet about Syd and I. Before I move to go to the bathroom I try to do some deep breathing. Rosemary said it's been helping her. 

Deep breath in, hold for two. Deep breath out, hold for two. Repeat four times. 

Repeat another four times. 

Nope. It's not working. It's not doing anything. It won't stop. It just won't stop. 

Fuck.

Careful not to move in a way that will wake David up, I squirm out of bed and make a quick beeline for the bathroom. I get to the bathroom and though I want to slam the door, I close it as carefully and as quietly as I can, and then let the storm of my despair hit full speed.

Not even being with David does anything to help me feel better. Maybe I should have waited. Maybe I didn't give myself enough time. I know Syd wouldn't mind, but maybe I'm not ready.

God, I miss him so much, and it never gets better. Every single night I am just filled with these deep aches of sadness and emptiness and loneliness and it's killing me. It's killing me. My body is in physical pain; my stomach and head feel like they're in a vise and the person tightening it has no mercy and finds my pain amusing. My heart feels heavy, and empty and broken and incomplete, and for a short while tonight it felt complete again. But it didn't last. Being reunited with the love of my life was not enough to do anything but put a bandaid on this feeling. Maybe David isn't the only love of my life???

Why does it always happen at night? 

I'm on the floor in a heap: a bedraggled, exhausted, frustrated and devastated heap of tears and mess and despair. I'm not just crying, I'm sobbing. Deep, guttural, and grief stricken sobs. I try my best to quiet them, and briefly succeed, but one escapes that's so loud I start to panic. Luckily David, heavy sleeper that he is, doesn't wake up. 

I'm going to have to tell him. If we are going to keep seeing one another not only do I owe it to him to tell him the truth, and not only do I have nothing to be ashamed of, but I can't keep sneaking off in the middle of the night to cry. For now, I've got my face buried in the tile floor of the bathroom to try and stifle all of my sobs and praying that I'll be able to calm myself before David wakes up.

I just keep seeing the way he used to look at me: like I was the only thing he ever wanted, like he never wanted his gentle, sweet eyes to be anywhere else. And I never wanted them to be anywhere else, either. And I always feel the warmth of his embrace, the love and devotion in every kiss, and the heat of passion we were never able to completely explore. 

His face and his soothing voice and his gentle touch plague my brain like a disease, a disease I don't ever want to recover from, a disease I'm happy I caught. I'm hyperventilating now, and all I want is for David to hold me, and to comfort me, but I'm too scared to tell him why I'm hurting. I can barely fucking breathe.

I just want my husband. I need him like I need air, and I'm suffocating every night I have to sleep without him. I'm searching through every moment for any happy memories that might make me laugh so I can stop these deep and painful sobs. But it doesn't work. Nothing works. Nothing can take this pain away. I find things that help, but deep down in the most fundamental part of me is a pain I can't escape. I feel empty, hopeless...and there's a feeling you get when you lose someone you love to death that's very hard to describe beyond the weight of the finality of it. I love him so much still. I wish I could heal him and bring him home and never let him go. I want to make him breakfast and tea, take walks, watch him in the garden, and I want to hold him again. That's the worst part, that I'll never touch him again. 

Nothing is working. None of my therapy coping skills are working. Fuck, Carol didn't tell me what to do in this kind of situation.

It feels like it takes forever, but finally my tears stop, and I'm able to slow down my breathing. I wash my face and stare at it in the mirror, and I wonder how I'm ever going to heal.

For now, I'll go back to sleep. Things will look better by morning.


	44. Roger - Cambridge, 1968

_I'm bored._

_It's not that there's something wrong with Maisie. Or is there? There isn't...she's beautiful, she's good in bed, she's so eager to please, and she listens to all things I think that I won't tell anyone else. I've been with a lot of young women, but only she's so eager to please me. She'll put my cock as deep in her throat as I tell her I need her to, and she'll spread her legs for me whenever I ask, even after we've just gotten home or if we've just woken up. I should be grateful. A lot of girls won't fuck on command like that. And also...as much as I hate it...she's such a comforting presence._

_Maybe that's why I'm so bored: she doesn't resist me. She doesn't fight me. She puts up with it, but the adoration she gave me before isn't there now. As I've grown colder, she has too._

_I haven't really bothered to listen to her say much, or get to know her at all. She thinks I have, but I haven't really been listening. She's got Syd to listen to her, it seems. It's not like she says anything interesting ever, or anything. It's not like she's actually really fucking smart and interesting. _

_And that's another thing. I've brought a lot of girls around. A lot. Syd has met a ton of my "girlfriends", but he's only ever bothered to talk to this one. I'm not going to lie to you and say that I have no feelings about it. It actually really bothers me, you know. I see the way they look at one another. I'm not about to sit here and pretend Syd has a one-sided crush. Do they really think they are pulling one over on me? I can see it. I've asked Rick, and Rick can see it. David and Nick can probably see it too. Really makes me angry, and I want them both to get hurt because they've both hurt me. I've never had a girl try to make a fool of me like that especially with one of my friends. And I've never had a friend try to make a fool of me like that, either. I'm not really even sure how mad I should be, though. It's obvious to anyone that I don't appreciate Maisie. I couldn't really care much less than I do about her as a person, so if Syd does I guess that's only natural that she'd want to be around that._

_I think I'm just about done with her, though, and he isn't far behind. He can't keep his head on straight, and it's getting real bloody old. So I can just dump them both at some point and be done with the whole affair. If she wants to stick around and deal with his drama she can, but I'm eventually not going to have anything to do with it. _

_I really wanted to like this one. Hell, I tried. No, I didn't. That's a lie. I didn't try at all. I could still try... I feel different when I'm lying with her at night than I have with the others, but I don't know why, and I find it to be quite frankly terrifying to even begin to think about, so I haven't explored it at all, and do not plan to. Ever. I'm not interested in relationships or having to put out effort to make someone else happy. And she's boring anyway. Really bloody boring. Nothing interesting to say. Or is that because I don't let her talk?_

_I'm watching them laugh together right this second, too, and so is David, and he looks a little bit angry too. Maybe he thinks it's as suspicious as I do. She's my girlfriend, damn it. This burns me up. I don't want to be made a fool of by a girl. Look at the way she smiles at him. She hasn't smiled at me like that in weeks. Am I jealous? I couldn't possibly be jealous. What do I care, anyway? I can find a much better girl: a hot girl, a wild girl, or a bad girl tomorrow if I feel like it. I don't need her. Who likes cute, shy girls, anyway? Not me. I really don't get what drives Syd so crazy. What's so great about her wide, expressive brown eyes, or her sweet pouted lips, and the way she blushes so easily if I even do anything nice for her or if I kiss her? Forget it. God, just fucking shut up. Stop thinking about it. I don't like her at all. I don't. I don't even care. She can be Syd's problem, it doesn't matter to me at all. It wouldn't be a loss of any type. That feeling I get when I fall asleep with her, and when I wake up in the morning, and she's there, still sleeping peacefully and almost always so close to me? And how when I reach for her I feel a dizziness in my head... It's a fluke. It's nothing. None of this means absolutely anything. If it meant anything to me I'd know why._

_Just another girl in an endless sea of girls…_


	45. Maisie - Cambridge, 1968

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW! There's some rough anal in this chapter, as well.

_Victoria's come home with me today. She wants to meet Roger. Not really sure why. I didn't ask him, so I hope he doesn't get pissed off. He's been so irritable lately, such a drag. Just being around him is enough to make me miserable. I think about Syd more and more every day because every day with Roger is the same: he comes home, he wants sex, I make dinner, we have more sex, he retreats to his study to be by himself and do whatever he does, and I'm left by myself until bedtime when he comes to me and he's very happy and affectionate while I suck his dick. I haven't gotten anything for myself in weeks, if you know what I mean. He cums and it's over. _

_If I could bring myself to go back to Aunt Eugenia's I would leave Roger yesterday, but I can't. I'd rather live with him and put up with bad sex than live with her and her awful husband and obnoxious kids and put up with emotional abuse. _

_I unlock the front door, and he's sitting on the couch strumming his acoustic guitar. Ugh. I used to think that was so sexy. Now it just makes him look like a douchebag._

_"Wait here," I whisper to Vicki, but not before Roger stands up and comes to the door. He looks Vicki over. I'm not really happy with the way he looked at her, either, but I'm also not as upset as I think maybe I should be. Seems to have been an effort to make me jealous, but it doesn't._

_"Oh, you brought a friend home? Nice to meet you, friend, now go on home and don't tell anyone who lives here!" Then to my horror he slams the door in her face. Who does this asshole think he is? _

_"What the fuck, Roger?" He backs me up against the wall. To think the last time he did this it made me excited. His eyes look hungry. Now it just makes me angry when he looks at me like this._

_"We don't need any visitors tonight. Not with what I plan to do with you." _

_"I'm not in the mood." That's not true. I could. I'm usually pretty open to sex whenever. But he's just becoming too much. He grips my wrist up against the wall. _

_"We'll be changing that, then." He reaches his hand up my skirt and in between my legs, and I can feel his fingers reaching through the leg hole of my panties. For a second I spread my legs and let him circle his fingers around my clit, and then I let him push himself against my hips, and I reach down his pants and hold his cock in my hand. He leans his head back and takes a deep breath in a moment of weakness. I squeeze it, knowing I could break him in two seconds if I wanted to. Fine, I guess I'm in the mood. But he might be a little overwhelmed. I'm not going easy on him. Still with his cock in one hand I grip his soft cinnamon hair and pull it a little with the other, he likes that. And I start jerking him off, only a little bit, just enough to make him properly excited._

_"Fine. Let's go to the bedroom." I pull my hand out of his pants and turn to walk away, and he tackles me to the ground. My body hits the floor with a loud thud, and it hurts my ribs. I can barely breathe. I'm on my stomach, and I can feel him hiking up my skirt and pulling my ass into the air. _

_"Not the bedroom. Here. Now." He pulls my panties down with the force of a man possessed by his lust and I can feel his fingers digging into my hips as he positions himself behind me. As he thrusts his cock inside me he pushes my head into the cold tile floor so hard that I'm getting a headache. He wants me to beg him to stop, doesn't he? Yeah, right. Keep going, asshole. You're not getting the reaction you want from me. _

_"Yes, Roger, exactly like that…" I manage to squeeze out somehow between the force of his thrusts and the pain of my face pressed against the floor. This makes him go faster and harder at me, his challenge to get me to revoke consent is getting more and more difficult to master. _

_"You like getting fucked hard, then? When I first met you you were scared of me hurting you when we fucked. Now you like it, do you?" _

_"Fuck me harder." _

_"You asked for it, brat." He slams into me, I can feel his cock all the way inside me as I back up against him, meeting his every thrust. When he pulls out of me he then forces himself into my ass, which I've never done before. It hurts, but I'm not giving him what he wants. My god, it hurts. You could have asked._

_"Put some oil on yourself, please." _

_"I just want to finish."_

_"You can fucking cum, Roger, just get some oil first if you want to put it in there." I collapse into a heap to catch my breath while he runs to get oil for us, and by the time he comes back my ass is already back up in the air, and I'm ready for him. This time his cock pushes in a little easier, and when he fucks me this time it actually sort of feels good. He pushes my head back into the floor and with his other hand reaches around and pushes his first two fingers inside my slit to get me off while he gets off. That's something he hasn't done in awhile, so I'm going to enjoy every second of it before he's done and I get up and clean myself up and walk out to go see Syd, which is what I've decided I'm doing. He's going to feel all the pain that I feel almost every day living with a man who purposely uses me for sex and wants me for nothing else. _

_I feel his cum pumping into me and he slams one last time against my body before he stops and I can feel and hear him breathing heavily, like he's utterly spent. He lets go of my head._

_"Are you done, too?" I'm not, but I don't really need to finish. I'm emotionally finished._

_"Yes," I lie. I'm used to lying to him about orgasms by now. He's good at what he does when he bothers to do it, but the problem is that he hardly bothers to do it, and just expects me to cum from being fucked. _

_"Good. Should we shower?" I stand up and walk toward the bathroom._

_"Yeah, I guess," I say as I start the water. He doesn't like it as hot as I do. I guess that's too bad._


	46. Roger - Cambridge, 1968

_Something just feels off. Something feels terrifying. I can't identify it, but I just know that I don't know if I'm bored and I don't like Maisie. I think I might like her. A little. Maybe. When we lie in bed together I feel something, but I don't know what. I know, though, that it's weird and it's scary and I just don't want to have to deal with it. I'd rather be bored and find her dull and fuck the living daylights out of her until she's of no more use or she gets tired of me, whichever comes first. _

_I always do this. I think I'm scared of women so I want to dominate and punish them, and what better way to do that than through a few good fucks and then discarding them? I had a lot of trouble with women before I started playing music; I struck out all the time. I'm kind of lanky and gawky and awkward, you see, and I'm just not able to connect with most people. Then of course after I got into a band I was swarmed with good ass, and that was that. But deep down I knew they only liked me because I was in a band. All those hot girls, and all that great sex… it was all a lie._

_But she didn't even know I was famous. She'd never heard of me or my band. She liked me for a real reason, not just because I had fame. I took a shot and I hooked her, and I didn't even have to be famous...she just liked me. That's horrifying. I don't understand what she'd see in me. It's a terrible situation to be in because I'd really like to enjoy a girl really liking me. I fuck a lot of women because I can, but then I feel discouraged and empty inside because I know it's not really me they want. But then I meet a pretty and nice girl who's not a brainless slag, and she likes me for me, not for who she thinks I am, and that's alien, and it makes me panic. _

_So I ruin it. Of course I ruin it. Sometimes it feels like when I get a hold of something nice always end up ruining it. _

_I've convinced myself I'm bored, that she's the problem, that she is dull and shallow, that all I need her for is sex so I won't have to risk being hurt. Like I could have slowed down and let myself enjoy having someone like me, but I couldn't do it._

_But I do like her. I really like her, and what's worse is that I think I might have always. I think I want more from her than this, but I don't know how to tell her that. I don't even know how to accept that, either. I like her, and I'm going to try to show her, and if she rejects me I'm throwing her out. I couldn't look at her anymore if I tried to be genuine and she brushed me off. This is hard enough as it is. _

_Why does she have to do this thing to me? This feeling...I don't want it. Why do I want to be close to her so badly?_

_She's stepped into the shower already, and I gaze at her voluptuous silhouette through the glass of my shower door in silence, fascinated by her, and the way her waist curves in like that. I open the door and feel a rush of emotion...a strange desire to touch her, really appreciate her body in a way that doesn't end with an orgasm. She looks back at me, and her pretty eyes dart to the floor before I can get a good read on them, something to let me know if she feels any warmth for me at all. Do I see pain in her eyes? I've really hurt her. It must be worse than I thought. _

_I wrap my arms around her waist, standing behind her and pulling her close to my body. I'm lanky and awkward and too tall, but she's smaller and warm and she feels so close to me. Her skin is wet and glistening as the water beats down upon us, and she's so soft. I don't know if I've ever properly held her like this before. My heart is beating fast... she's so beautiful. She's everything I used to want before I got used to just being able to dump women like garbage. If I met Maisie when I was in my last years of school before I got famous I'd have given anything just to be with her. Now she's just another girl, I guess..._

_"What are you doing?" _

_"I'm sorry." I whisper in her ear. I've never felt so bad. If I could just get over myself Maisie and I could be happy. _

_"Okay." I really fucked this up. _

_"Turn around." I let her go, and she does turn around, and I take her in my arms and kiss her, and I don't think I've ever kissed her this way. I try to be gentle, to show her how I feel so maybe I won't have to say anything. She doesn't kiss me back. In fact, she pushes me away. I watch her wash her hair and then get out of the shower. I'm really embarrassed, and hurt, but I'm going to ignore the hurt. That's not something I'm willing to allow myself to feel. No...I'm angry. This bitch can go fuck herself._


	47. Maisie - London, September 2006 - The Hotel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mild NSFW!

I wake up before David in the morning, still wrapped in his arms, and I run my fingers over the skin of his well muscled forearms, playing with the light fuzz he's allowed to grow on them. The rhythm of his breath against my back is relaxing; I feel like I could fall right back to sleep. Maybe I should. The longer we stay asleep the longer we can be together. I think back on all of the events of last night: our reunion, my encounter with his wife, and the night we spent together re-discovering our love, and having a breakdown in the middle of the night. I was afraid last night that when I woke up none of it will ever have happened (except the breakdown), and that I'd still be asleep in the guest room at Syd's house, avoiding our bed: the bed he died in, like the plague, and crying myself to sleep like I have all two months after he died lying next to me with his hand in mine. But I'm awake now, and David is still here, asleep beside me, and my pain is gone for now.

I guess some people would tell me that seeing David at all, never mind on the night of my husband's memorial service, was in bad taste, and that I should have just left well enough alone or at least waited. I understand why they'd say that. The truth, however, is that I would have refrained if I believed Syd would have wanted me to.

I did a good job playing dumb when Roger tried to make himself the hero of mine and David's story, didn't I? Acted all shocked when he told me that Syd wanted David and I to be together. 

I knew that a week before Syd went to the hospital. We had been lying in bed, holding hands, and he looked at me. I could see tears forming in his eyes. Syd cried so easily, but then again, he always did. Syd was always sort of childlike, and so it wasn't surprising that he aged to still be childlike. I never minded. I was happy to let him be who he was, and to love the man he was, no matter how sensitive he could be. I realized it might bother a lot of women, but it never bothered me. I thought he was a perfect husband.

_"Maisie," _he had said, _"When I die, please try to get David back."_ I choked back some tears and shook my head, and I asked him to please not talk like that, but he kept on. _"When I can't be here anymore I want to make sure that you are happy and loved, and there's only one man I'd trust to love and take care of my wife like I can."_ So I promised him I'd try to get David back. Roger thinks I don't know Syd like he does, and that it was some big secret that the only person who wanted David and I together more than the two of us was Syd himself. So no, I don't feel bad jumping at the opportunity. I'd like to think that somewhere Syd is watching, and he's happy that we took advantage of the situation. As for David being unfaithful, it does feel bad. I feel terrible. But I don't think, unfortunately, that I feel terrible enough to stop. I love David too much to walk away, or to let him walk away. 

But there's also the matter of telling David about Syd and I. I had been thinking about it on and off last night, especially when I was in the bathroom. David had no warm feelings for Syd. Although he'd made sure that Syd received royalty payments, and then continued to perform his songs in order to make sure he was financially secure, that was something David did because he is kind, and he knew that Syd would never be able to work, and that he deserved as much credit as any of them for what he contributed musically. Besides that David hadn't liked Syd from the time he joined the band (though they had been friends prior) and after Syd hurt me, he told me he would never forgive him. So will he be angry at me that I learned to love Syd again, and that we had married? I hope not. There was never a time during our time together when Syd made me feel unsafe. Uncomfortable maybe, but never unsafe. As far as I'm concerned, he more than made up for what had happened all those years ago. 

I try to settle back down to sleep, just to savor the time I have to sleep with the one I love. It's very wonderful to be lucky enough to have found your true love, and even better to say you found them again. As I drift slowly into a peaceful and content sleep I feel David stir next to me. I'm praying he doesn't wake up; we need to make this last. He stirs again, and this time sort of shakes himself awake. I can feel him squeeze me and he plants a kiss on top of my head. 

"You're still here." I run my hands over his arms again and then roll over to face him. Those beautiful, misty blue eyes. Oh, my god. 

"I felt the same way when I woke up." 

"Thank god." I reach my hand out to brush the skin of the man that I love: the perfect, smooth, warm skin that belongs to the man I was always meant to be with. You don't even understand how it felt when David and I were falling in love. We were always together. Where one went, the other came. It annoyed everybody. But we just never wanted to be without one another. It evened out eventually, but for quite a few months David and I were inseparable. 

David reaches for my cheek and pulls me into a deep kiss. When we part he pulls my face close to his and whispers to me. I can't resist the sound of his voice, and he knows it. 

"I need one more go at you, and then I say we take a shower, have breakfast and talk for awhile. Roger's told my wife I'd be back in time to check out by five, and it's nine." I giggle as he moves his lips away from my ear and I move in close to his chest, and I guide his hand down to my bottom. He gives it a playful smack and I swing my leg over his hip.

"I'd happily have one more go at you. I'm going to need to remember your thick cock."


	48. Syd - Cambridge, April 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mild NSFW!

We had a beautiful dinner at a restaurant I wouldn't normally eat at, it was so nice. Rosemary and Ian paid for us to have a meal and dessert. Now I'm very full and we're in Rosemary's car about to be dropped off back at home...for our wedding night. To be honest with you, I don't know what to expect. I'm very nervous. What if she hasn't wanted sex this entire time, but wants it tonight? What am I going to do? I don't think I can do it at all, let alone to completion. I would love to be able to make love to Maisie until the sun comes up, and watch her face contort and twist into an expression of pleasure, the way I used to do. When Maisie and I were young, we used to have sex from dusk until dawn sometimes. This slowed down once I got very sick, but in the beginning we enjoyed one another's bodies often and enthusiastically. I was beautiful then, though. Even if I could perform now I doubt Maisie would want to with me. 

"Should we take a bath together?" Worst fears realized. She wants to try, but I don't think I can, and I'm so afraid.

"Maisie, I don't think that I… that I can do anything like that." I look down at the floor, and I feel so defeated and hopeless. I wish I could enjoy every inch of her body the way that David probably could. 

"I don't mean have sex, Syd. It's not lost on me that we have avoided that, and it's totally okay. I just think we should be intimate with one another somehow, know one another's bodies in some way." I can feel myself blushing. I hadn't thought of that. We could be intimate, but not have sex.

"So you don't want to at all?"

"Do you want to, my love?" 

"You're my wife, Maisie, so I only want to make you happy." She shows me her beautiful, sunny smile and wraps her arms around my waist. My Maisie is so good to me. There isn't a luckier man alive. I sometimes doubt there's been a luckier man who's ever lived. Maisie is the most special woman in the world, and she chose me. She left David, but chose me to marry. You have no idea how good and how vindicating that feels. David forced us apart back then. He would never, ever let Maisie come out to see me even though I waited outside for her for hours. I know why he did it, he was trying to protect her, but I never would have hurt her again. 

To be frank, I guess it wouldn't have been fair to ask Maisie to make that journey with me after I got sick. I was very, very sick for many years. Multiple times I was taken away to a psychiatric hospital, and there were a lot of times when I had fits that frightened my neighbors. I would have ended up hurting Maisie again, I suspect, even though I never wanted to hurt her the first time, and I spent so many years vowing that were she to come back to me I'd never do it again. But I probably would have...I only recovered in the past few years. 

"What makes me happy is being here with you. We can see where things take us, if you'd like, but all that matters is that we're together tonight, and for as long as we can be." I lean my forehead against hers, searching her soft eyes for love, and watching them brighten as they stare back at me, a gentle light dancing inside them. 

"You're so lovely, my Maisie." My words pour like sweet wine from my lips because I just couldn't bear to keep it a secret. I want her to know every time I look at her and see the world in her sweet face, and every time I know how lucky I am that my sweet one could ever love me, and all the time I feel so comforted by her. Maisie will never go a day without being shown how much I love her. I couldn't bear to keep it from her. 

"Oh, Syd…" 

"Don't you ever stop remembering how beautiful I think you are. You're my beautiful diamond, my Queen." I watch her tremble and smile gently with downcast eyes as I take the top of her neck with both hands, cupping the place where her neck meets her beautifully well angled and elegant jaw and I pull her with a courageous show of gentle unsure dominance in for a deep kiss. I hope that she feels the depth of my love in every kiss I give her.

Maisie pulls away from me, and she penetrates my soul with the strength in her beautiful doe eyes. She leans her face into my face, her nose gently pressing into mine. She reaches her arms up to wrap around my neck and strokes the back of my head.

"I love you. I really do love you, and cherish you, and adore being in your company. You're beautiful too, Syd. You're a beautiful man, such a beautiful man, and I love you very much." 

I scoop my arms under her arms and look down at her in a way that I hope shows her how much I am her faithful servant, and how she is my most beloved mistress. 

"Thank you for loving me…" 

"I'm happy just to love you." 

"I'd do anything for you, my Maisie. Anything. Just ask me."

"No, Syd. Don't give me anything more than you can. You have my love, and I know in my heart how deeply we love each other. You don't need to prove your love to me anymore."

"I am starting to wind down. You know I haven't really gone out much for a few weeks. All I want to do now is paint, listen to music, and love my wife. You'll never go a long time without knowing how loved you are." 

Maisie pauses in a sad kind of manner. She's probably coming to terms with my death, but that's okay. I know if Maisie can be with David she will spend her life being loved the way I love her, and live her days in happiness. I don't have to stay for her. I know David will do a good job. That's her true love, you see, but I've come to terms with that. It's okay because I know I won't be around long. All I need is to know somehow that my lovely goddess is being treated the way she should be treated. 

"I won't ever doubt your love, my beautiful and loving man, and please don't ever doubt mine." 

Maisie thinks I'm beautiful, and not in the superficial way. That doesn't matter to her; she really thinks I'm beautiful. She thinks my soul and my being are beautiful, and I have always wanted to be more than just aesthetically beautiful. Let myself go because it really doesn't mean anything to look good. All it did was cause me problems. I admit, though, that I am an adoring admirer of my love's mature and wizened beauty. So perhaps I'm a bit of a hypocrite. I can't help it though...she's so radiant. 

But Maisie loves me. She sees beauty in me. That's all I've ever needed: to be more than meat, or more than a repulsive old man. Women always made me feel like meat at the time Maisie and I met. I had sex so much with so many women that I felt so deeply unsatisfied and dehumanized. And as an older man now I see the way women look at me if I even just glance at them sometimes. I just wanted a woman who could see me and not my looks or my fame, and Maisie was always that woman.


	49. David's Wife -Sussex, England, 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story skips ahead a bit here to set up for the second series, but once we're in the second one it won't get picked up until toward the end, so please bear with me.

Dear Christie,

So you're not going to believe what I just found. David's coming home today, and so I was just doing a quick cleaning up in our bedroom to make my son of a bitch husband comfortable in there so hopefully we could have sex at some point. Start putting some clothes on his side of the closet, and I see what looks like a small safe in a place where there had never been one. 

A fucking safe. Just out in the closet. I guess I just never noticed it. How am I so stupid? And he didn't even bother to hide the key, either. Dumbass.

So I open it, and what do I find?

A red hair ribbon  
A picture of a young sweet faced May flashing a shy smile at what I presume was David taking her picture suddenly, a flower in her hair that's blowing ever so slightly in the wind. It's sunset, and she's radiant with the sun behind her. I don't remember a time where David took one photo of me.   
About eight pictures of them looking so in love and blissfully happy. His arm swung over her shoulder lazily sitting on a picnic table bench at some kind of party, all young and muscled and hot with that beautiful long hair, and she with a free spirited kind of bohemian beauty, a far cry from the black pantsuit glamazon in red lipstick and heels I met last year. A few pictures of May and David just gazing at one another...one of them giving each other a kiss at what looks like an anniversary party. Yeah, there's a cake that says "10 Years!" on it. Wow. One photo of the two of them standing a distance from the camera in front of a concert stage with him pointing to some of the equipment, his other arm secured around her waist. She's beautiful with her long wavy cocoa hair and her red tank top and acid washed jeans that cling to her curves. Jealous. I'm so skinny.  
Plane ticket stubs to California  
A small vial of sand  
A pair of panties?  
A guitar pick   
A beautiful daisy hairpin  
An article May wrote for the New York Times about the effects of the 2000 election on American democracy. Oh, great, she's smart, too.

And here's where it starts to go downhill.

A stack of letters in open envelopes held together by a rubber band, all sent to him by May to different PO boxes all around the United States and in the rest of the world. But on the very bottom there were three from David to May, all with different addresses, that were marked return to sender. I looked at the dates on all three. 1992, 1997, and 2004. That's when I throw down the first two and decide to read only the newest one. 

I can't even accurately describe to you the level of pain I felt upon reading this letter. After I was done I threw it on the ground and collapsed into a heap of ugly tears. It made me positively ill, reading all of this. You have no idea how betrayed I feel.

My love, Maisie,

I'm sorry I haven't reached out in awhile, but the other letters being returned left me discouraged and hopeless. My heart still yearns for your love even now.

I have lived a wonderful life. I have the best family and I'm very lucky to feel loved and valued. I am successful and rich and famous, and I can have whatever I want. You'd think I'd be happy, or feel fulfilled, but even where I feel most fulfilled (with my family) I still have a hole in my heart where I wish you were. My life has felt incomplete somehow. I miss you terribly, and so often. At night sometimes I torture myself with thoughts of you and my loss of you. I can't sleep sometimes; it's horrible. If only you were with me, my love. I need to know: do you think of me often, too, or am I alone in my longing? 

I have never resented you or blamed you for leaving me. Leaving was justified. But I should have called. I should have tried. You were worth trying for and I chickened out. I would have taken you on tour with me if you'd wanted to come, always, if I could do it again. You'd never have been alone. If I could do everything over I'd have just taken you with me from the beginning, and I -would- do everything over. I would have kept trying, and kept trying until you came back if you left anyway. 

I pray that my letter finds you well and happy, and that maybe you've found a man or woman who makes you happier than I could, and who doesn't leave you all alone for months, and who has the good sense to marry you. But I also hope that one day, regardless of that, you'll agree to see me one more time so that I may only look upon you. Wow, do I wonder what you look like now. I bet you're still stunning. 

This won't be my last attempt, I promise. I won't give up on you and me, even if it means writing these letters until I die and having them all returned. I'm going to do what I can to try. I'd call, but I have no idea how to reach you. Phone numbers are a lot more temporary than addresses, and this is the last address I can remember. If this is returned, I promise you I'll do some more research until I find you. Please don't think even for a second that because I haven't called it means I have forgotten you.

With all of my love,  
Your David

As if that weren't bad enough, the last thing I found was a beautiful diamond ring tucked in a small black velvet box lined with pink satin. This ring is worlds more beautiful than mine, too. It's an out of this world ring that was probably very expensive. A diamond in a princess cut set in white gold. This is what ultimately broke my heart. Now I know for sure that I was settled for. He'd bought a ring but never given it to her. Why? Why couldn't he have spared me a lot of humiliation and heartbreak by just never bothering t o date until he got over this other woman? I don't deserve this, I've been a damn good wife to him. I've never so much as looked at another man, and damn it, I'm an attractive woman. I'm a model for fuck's sake, I could have married Mick Jagger, but I chose him. I could have cheated any time I wanted to. I never did. I never even thought about the possibility of finding love and sex somewhere else. God damn it. I could have just been sleeping around all this time. He only started cheating recently, I'd guess, but his heart has been unfaithful this entire time. 

And what makes that snotty whore so great, anyway? What does she have over me? What is it about her that he can't let go? Is it the stunning mane of silver hair, or the perfectly made up face, or the voluptuous body? Is it the expressive brown eyes that sparkled at him with love? Maybe it's not physical. Maybe she's just a better person than I am, maybe she's smarter, funnier or more loving. Maybe she's a witch who put a spell on my husband. 

It can't be that. It's not about magic. It's about what they had. My husband loves someone else, and that's the reality of the situation. 

And at this point I notice that all the letters to May are addressed to places in Maine. 

Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me, I thought. 

Fucking Maine. He had to have that second home in Maine specifically. Told me that was where he needed to go to be by himself. It made sense to me at the time because David has always needed time to himself, and I really didn't see anything wrong with him keeping a place for himself somewhere remote. 

Because you know, I trusted my husband. Excuse me. Now I know what the asshole has been doing all those times he's gone out there. I guess he kept his promise and went back for her. And now I'm the fool who bought it hook, line and sinker. 

While I've been holding down a home my husband has been off fucking his ex girlfriend and showing her a good time with the money meant for our children and for me to have a good time, damn it. He should be taking me out and whisking me away to a house in the States and making love to me all afternoon. That's what I deserve: what May is probably getting. 

She gets the best of the man I love, the man I married. The man I chose. He asked me to marry him!!! He told me how much he loved me, and wanted to spend his life with me, but all along I was just a bandaid over the wound on his heart that May left. 

And I can't even hate her for the way he's always felt. It's not her fault. Obviously she either rejected these letters or never received them. And she never reached out to him. So she wasn't trying to steal him away...but I can hate her now. She knows David is a married man and she just doesn't care. May is perfectly content to help fuck over a man's wife who bore him an entire brood of children that he just had to have, a woman who's spent her life sacrifing for the man who lies in bed with her and giving his heart that should belong to his wife to her. I'd never do this to her were the situation reversed. Hell, I almost wish it was. I adore David, I've done my best to give him the best life, family and home that I can, I've done the best I can to accommodate his annoying constant subtle melancholy that I've silently dealt with without complaint. I've dealt with every fucking depression and all of the anger he can sometimes have. Faithfully and happily I've done that because I knew I had the most loving husband in the world. I'm an idiot. I'd give anything to have been with him for almost two decades, and then live a full life of love, sex, friends, travel and professional success, and then be with him again. At least then I'd be the one. 

So now I have a difficult choice to make. But is it really that difficult? I deserve to be loved the way David loves her. I deserve all of a man's heart. And besides, if that's who he really wants to be with I won't stop him. Who would I be to tell him not to chase his happiness? I'm going to ask him to move out. What am I going to tell my children and their children? I don't want them to know that their beloved father and grandfather is a dishonest philanderer. 

Thanks for listening.  
Your Friend


	50. Maisie - Cambridge, 1968

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW! Drug use in this chapter as well.

_I step out of the shower, leaving that egomaniacal asshole in there feeling like an emasculated fool. He deserves it. _

_"I'm going out." He doesn't respond so I walk out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, and march toward the bedroom to brush my hair, put some conditioner in it and put on clothes. Nice clothes. Clothes I'd want Syd to see me in, because that's where I'm going. I'm going to see him in the park so I can feel appreciated and be in the presence of someone so sweet and kind instead of this idiot. What was that whole performance in there about, anyway? Now you want to apologize. Yeah, whatever. You can apologize, just don't expect me to fall for it. _

_I gaze at myself in my bedroom mirror. I don't look happy. I don't look like I'm enjoying life at all. I want Syd to see me happy. I put on the fakest smile I can possibly muster, and imagine him looking at me with his gentle brown eyes. _

_I run a brush through my long hair, still smiling, still trying to pretend until it becomes real. I think I'll wear this cute off the shoulder red and white checkered peasant top and these fitted blue jeans. I look natural, and hopefully happy. I think he'll like it. _

_Oh god, Roger's behind me. He looks furious. I should really go. I turn around and try to walk away as quickly as possible, but Roger grabs a hold of my arm and pulls me back to him. He stares through me, his eyes like cold steel and his jaw clenched with rage. I'm really afraid that he's going to hit me. I look over at his hand squeezing my wrist and and he squeezes it a little harder._

_"I never fucking liked you, you bleeding cunt. You're so dull and shallow. I could never take you seriously for anything other than a good fuck." Wow, that hurts. That really hurts. I can feel tears building in my eyes. I really liked Roger for awhile... I guess I should have known._

_"Let me go." I pull my arm away from him and I run out the front door, then release all my pain through a power walk toward the park. I think people are staring at me there, trying desperately not to collapse into a mess of tears. _

_I see Syd sitting on a park bench, looking up at the sky, sort of letting his mind wander peacefully. His beautiful curls fall in his face and he looks almost angelic surrounded by the moonlight. I walk up to him, but stop suddenly as he rests his eyes upon me. _

_"Maisie, you came." His face brightens into a smile, and he gets up, holding out his faelike pale white hand. I take it, and he pulls me down onto the bench next to him. I'm trying so hard not to let my tears take over me, but I can't keep the dam up. I can't stop myself from crying. They're exploding from me, and soon I'm in hysterics. "No, Maisie...don't cry. Why are you crying?" _

_My shoulders are shaking and I fall into his body, and he takes me in his arms. _

_"I'm sorry. I wanted you to think I was happy," I manage, my face buried in his chest, and his fingers swirling around in my hair. _

_"You shouldn't pretend to be happy. I'll like you even if you're sad. Don't worry." He's rubbing my back now, and he hugs me just a little tighter. "You're so wonderful, Maisie, Roger's a dolt. He doesn't see how special you are." How does he know that it's Roger? People sometimes say they think he can read minds. Maybe it's true. _

_"How did you know?"_

_"Only one thing could make such a nice girl cry so hard, and that's a stupid, mean bloke who doesn't see why she's so special." _

_"He told me I never meant anything to him...and just said a lot of mean things, and I wanted to come here and see you and be happy, but…" He puts his hand over my mouth, gives me a mischievous smile, and giggles._

_"It will be okay. Do you know why? He's so stupid not to see you for what you are, but I see it. Who cares if he doesn't like you? I like you." He pulls away and leans in close to my face. Our eyes connect, and he smiles just a little at me before he leans in for a kiss. Our lips touch gently and when I pull away he squeezes me tight against his body. When he sits back he brushes some of those beautiful black curls out of his face and pulls two small white tablets out of his pocket._

_"What's that?"_

_"Just take them. I'll take some too. It'll make us feel better. Let's go back to my house and sit outside together." I'm opening my mouth, and he's placing the tablets on my tongue, and now holding his hand out for me to take. My head's starting to spin, and Syd is guiding me somewhere. We laugh as we find our way back to I guess what is his backyard, but it looks like a fantasy landscape with waterfalls and unicorns and a rainbow. I can't tell where we really are because I am feeling so far away from everything but him. I turn to look at him and I see him surrounded by a beautiful golden light, like he's the sun, and I'm the cool, soft silver moon, and we need each other. I know it's really soon, and that I haven't even spent any time with him before this, but I want Syd so badly even now in whatever daze I'm in. Maybe even more now. I look at him and I see Adam, covered in flower vines strung seamlessly into his hair and standing bare in front of me. And I'm Eve: naked, vulnerable and clad in flower vines twisting around my body. We are supposed to be here together tonight. _

_"I see you covered in emeralds and diamonds. You're so pretty like ice cream or the moon or a warm spring day. Let's just lay together. Would you lay with me for awhile?"_

_"I would love to. You look like a nature god or something. You're all covered in vines, and you're so beautiful. I've never ever felt this way. I want to lay with you near the Earth and watch all the beautiful patterns in the sky." He's gently pulling me into his naked chest...when did we actually get naked? Am I really naked? I touch my bare skin...I am. And so is he. It feels so tender and natural to just be naked with him. His fingers graze my bare collarbone on both sides, he's letting the tips of his fingers explore the valleys in between my collarbone and my shoulders._

_"Can I touch you a little more? I feel so close to you right now." _

_"Kiss me again," I plead. His eyes are so gentle, his touch so unsure, like he's afraid that I'm glass and if he pushes too hard he'll break me. _

_"You're sparkling like diamonds. I'm afraid to kiss you...you're such a beautiful princess." _

_"Don't be afraid. I really, really like you. I've really liked you for a long time, and I just felt too guilty to tell you because of Roger."_

_"I've really liked you for a long time, too...I think you're just precious and I really wanted you to come see me and you really came." _

_"Then kiss me." We revel in our closeness and our connection to each other. There doesn't need to be sex. We are comfortable just being naked with one another. We're lost in letting our hands explore the peaks and valleys of each other's bodies, the softness of moonbathed skin, the curves and angles of one another. _

_"Anything for you, Silly Whim." I'm so in love. He's pulling me closer, I'm drawing him into my breasts and my mouth. We are fully enjoying one another, orbiting each other in space, savoring the delicious taste of our fairy tale love. I see stars and desserts and I'm a beautiful fairy princess in the arms of my gentle satyr lover clad in flowers and bells. With my arms around his neck I sit up on my knees and lean up to give him a kiss. A better kiss, a magic sparkling kiss. _

_"Let's lay together." The ground is sparkling with dew and it's lighting up like silver fireflies are lingering above the grass. There's little silver orbs everywhere, floating around us as we lay down and I feel the cold wetness against my back._

_Our naked bodies entwined, held together by pure desire, savoring our creamy skin with one another. My legs feel like velvet against his perfect lean body. _

_"Let's touch one another more." _

_"In more places, you mean?"_

_"I want to feel your little rose flower. Can I touch you there? Will you let me stroke your tender petals and your bud?" I'm turning over on my back, lying flat in the sparkling grass. My heart is beating faster, and my knees drop open._


	51. David -Sussex, England, 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This 2007 storyline lasts until the end of this volume, but then stops and isn't continued until the middle of the second one. Just letting people know because it's such a jump forward and it might seem out of place. Consider these chapters a preview!

I'm sitting on the bed, waiting for my wife to come back. She just sent the children to her mother's. I got home three days ago, and I knew something was off. She would barely speak a warm word to me: every word chilled me to the bone. They were few and far between. She wouldn't sleep next to me. I know what's coming. It's obvious she knows about Maisie and I, and I'm probably in for it. I don't blame her. I don't know how I allowed myself to hurt such a dedicated, loving, supportive wife. I shouldn't have married her. Not because there's anything wrong with her, or that I don't love her (I do), but because marrying her was unfair to both of us. I belonged in one place with one woman and chose to enter into marriage with another to try and forget her, and by doing so hurt the woman I married, the woman I promised to love until death. It isn't fair. It's never been fair to her.

Here she is, strolling into the room with a suit of armor around her complete with spikes. I'm done for. She won't sit down, she'd rather stand in front of me with her hands on her hips, bending over ready to bite off my head. She goes into the closet. Oh, fuck. This is the worst possible way she could have found out. As suspected she returns holding my lockbox full of my reminders of Maisie, and my letters to her, and she opens it and dumps all the contents out on our bed (which is now basically just her own bed). I stare in horror as the contents, all my memories of Maisie, are suddenly and carelessly exposed. 

"What is this, David? What exactly is all of this? Tell me, because I deserve to know. You looked at it pretty recently, too. Left it out in the open with the key in a very obvious spot, I must say. So, yeah. I looked, and I'm glad I did because now I know the truth. For once, in all these years, I know the full truth." 

"I don't know what to say." I know what I should say, but I don't know if I'm capable of saying it. 

"You better say something, god damn it. You better fucking say something because I deserve nothing but a thorough explanation. What the fuck, David? You lie to me for years about how long you were in a relationship with this woman and pretend she was just a fling, lead me into a marriage under what you know are false pretenses, leave me with six kids and spend your nights with me dreaming about an old girlfriend who you apparently never even fought for except to try and write sappy letters to her. But you were going to propose, huh? Why didn't you? And you keep all these sweet reminders of her...you leave your box of shit out where I can see it while you're off fucking and loving her and I'm left here with nothing to do and no one to talk to except a few teenagers who don't want to talk to me anyway. I'm your bloody wife, David, and I guess you've never really treated me like one. Where are the photos of me smiling at you behind the camera? Where is the beautiful expensive ring and all of that? And you even kept a pair of panties." Those last few words sound like she spit them out. Well, that was all very blunt. I've got to own up to all of it; she deserves that much.

"Yes, I lied to you about Maisie. It was half me not wanting to face the pain, and half me wanting desperately not to hurt you, because if I told you how long we were together it might give away that I'd never gotten over it. I didn't want you to know that."

"Well, I'm hurt, so that didn't work."

"What I told you about her is what happened between her and Roger. I couldn't bear to be honest, and I'm sorry. And yes, I'm spending time with Maisie in Maine. I've led you on through our entire marriage, pretending that my heart wasn't already taken, pretending that I was free to give you all of myself. I'm not, though, and my heart has always been taken. I'm sorry. It's nothing to do with you. I love you the best I can." 

"The best you can???? What is this? I'm married to a dishonest cheater. I've sacrificed my life, my body, my professional goals, and so much for you and for us and for our children. I'm a good wife. I'm a good fucking wife. You wasted me based on a lie! Fucking hell! I'm out. That's it. You want to be happy? Go live in the States. I want your shit out of here in a week, and you can pack up and go stay in Maine with your fucking true love. Yeah, lucky you to have had that. We should all be so lucky." 

Yeah, I don't know what to say. I'm a tight lipped mess. It's all true, every word. I have done her wrong, done myself wrong and done Maisie wrong. And my children. I've done everyone so wrong, and all I ever did was love someone. It's sick. I don't want everyone to be hurt, but I truly want Maisie and I'd be disingenuous to claim that I want to stay in my marriage. I tried. I've been trying for as long as we've been married. And I do love her, my wife. I really do. It's just not the same.

"You have been a good wife, and that's why I'm going to let you go so you can find someone who won't do to you what I've done. If you want me out, I'll leave. We will find a way to break it to the kids, and we'll go our separate ways."

"Is this really just so easy for you? You don't seem to be having any second thoughts."

"I'm going to my room. We'll talk later." I shrug her off and head to my bedroom, and pick up a guitar on the way. Might as well play music until I feel better.


	52. Syd - Cambridge, April 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!

Maisie runs the bath water and I watch as steam rises from the tub. I shake with nervousness as she takes my hand and leads me toward the bathtub where she gently undoes my button down shirt, looking up into my eyes with her smile that lets me know it's going to be okay. I haven't even thought about anyone ever seeing me without clothes. Even though we've slept in the same bed I've never let Maisie see me with no shirt on because I've been too embarrassed. So her gently unbuttoning my shirt, exposing my chest, is a little bit scary. I blush deeply as she runs her hand over my bare chest, grazing my skin that's not ever been touched since she last touched it. 

"I'm nervous, Maisie." What if she doesn't like how I look?

"Don't be scared, my love. We're only being intimate." I nod as I close my eyes and learn to enjoy her soft touch on my bare skin, her gentle hands exploring my upper body: my chest, my stomach, my bare arms and my back. What am I so afraid of? It's not like this is a stranger, this is my love, Maisie. She's my most trusted one, why I am I scared of her touch? I don't think I'm scared of her, I think that I'm very insecure about all of this. I know she has seen bodies better than mine. But if she didn't love my body because it's a part of me, why would she be here? 

"Don't think you need to do anything at all that makes you uncomfortable." If she happens to want to stop, I want to make sure that she knows I won't be angry. 

"My love, we know one another's bodies already. It's just been a long time." I nod as she runs her hands across my chest again, and I reach around her to take off her pretty white dress. As I unzip her dress it peels off of her shoulders and falls about her chest in a way that's almost seductive as I stare at her and watch the top of the dress gathered near her covered breasts, which I think I do want to see...not because I want anything more, but it's only that they're part of her, and I love every inch of her. I run my hands over her bare arms and I watch her lean her head back in bliss, and I'm elated: I can do this for her, at least. She pulls my open shirt off of my body and tosses it to the side. I pull her in for a kiss as I guide the dress down off of her and watch it hit the floor, revealing her strong, thick, but feminine legs and her generous hips. She kisses me the way I think a wife should kiss her husband, and it's magical and otherworldly like a beautiful rainbow dream. I never thought I belonged here with her, having the privilege of feeling her hands on my body. 

I gently touch the smooth skin of her soft, wide hips with my fingertips, amazed by every sweet touch. And as she unbuttons my pants I start to tug at her baby blue and white striped cotton underwear, unsure how to begin to take them off of her. Should I just pull them off? Should I ask her if I can take them off? I'd rather be safe and make sure she wants me to do it instead of doing it herself.

"Can I…?"

"I can't wear them in the bathtub, can I?" She nods at me and guides my hands to her hips again and stares lovingly into my eyes as I tug her panties off of her body. As she pulls my pants down I stare, wide eyed and nervous, at my wife's perfect naked body. I love the way her hips flare out with a classic feminine beauty, and the way she has just enough of a tummy that it looks sweet and soft, and I just want to love every last inch of her. She pulls my underwear off of me, and that's positively the worst part. I didn't even think about this before. It's very scary, being totally exposed before my love.

"Maisie, I don't know...I don't know about this…" she grazes both sides of my face with her beautiful hands, stroking her thumbs over my eyelids and the corners of my eyes.

"There's nothing to be scared of, my love. I promise. I won't touch you anywhere that feels uncomfortable. We aren't doing this to sexually excite ourselves or one another." She always knew how to comfort me when I got scared. I nod at her and when I'm finally naked the last thing I do is clumsily fumble with her lacy white bra until I finally remember how to remove it. I reveal her lovely breasts, and I shake a little as I realize that we're ready to step into our steaming hot bath which she's also poured soap bubbles that smell like lavender into. 

Maisie smiles at me and offers me her hand as we step into the soothing hot water. I can feel my cheeks flood with color as we sit down and she holds her arms open for me. She looks so warm and inviting, and so beautiful. I pull her naked body so close to my own that if I could make love to her I already would be. I can feel her velvet skin against mine, her breasts pushed against my chest, and our eyes linking us as one soul.

I can't help but feel dissatisfied in some way as I realize that now, in the bathtub holding her naked body against mine, I actually do want to be with her in the way I was convinced I didn't. I want to ravage her, to enjoy the body of my goddess to the fullest. My mind is swollen with desire for her.

"Your body is so soft. I wish that … that I could…" She places a childlike index finger over my lips to reassure me.

"We don't even have to think about that. We're only here to love one another, to be intimate together. Let's not focus on sex, okay? You don't need to feel ashamed. I need you just the way you are." 

"But I want you…I want to be able to do everything to you." I do want her...my mind wants her. In my mind I want to lie her down and kiss every part of her perfect body and spend all night loving and touching her, being one with her. I look down at her beautiful breasts and slowly reach my hand out to touch one of them, and then the other. I feel a jolt inside my body as I explore both her beautiful pink hills with my fingertips: these beautiful breasts I haven't seen since they were young buds...now they are fully formed women's bosoms and I love them. Every soft touch of the pillows on her chest is waking me up to a world of forgotten experiences. I expect her to be disgusted by my touch, but she's looking at me with that sunny smile on her face and I get lost in those friendly eyes as I let my fingers drift over her nipples which harden when I touch them like they used to. She pulls me in for a kiss, a passionate one, a kiss she hasn't given me for years. 

"Let's just be together. You can touch me if you want, but don't pressure yourself or beat yourself up. All I want is to be close to you like this." Maisie leans her head against my heart, listening intently to its steady beat, the one that sounds only for her, and I stroke her pretty long hair. Maisie's hair makes her look like a unicorn princess. I saw this cartoon movie about a little girl and the last unicorn, and she looks like that girl. She's radiant, and wise, and her love for me is true.

Her hand sneaks up my chest to my neck and then to my cheek, which she strokes lovingly, the way she'd touch a small kitten. Every time she touches me like this I close my eyes and feel every touch so intensely that it makes my stomach dizzy like I'm on a carnival ride.

"I wish we could stay here forever and not have to ever go anywhere or do anything else." Maisie lets out that soft girlish giggle that I've always been in love with. The first time I heard it was at practice with the band, and I had told her a joke. She was so quiet, I thought maybe if I made her laugh it might break her out of her shell, and it did. We talked every time we saw one another from that point on. I don't think I ever mentioned the way Maisie and I fell in love. It's a funny story, actually, I gave her some LSD (of course I did) after Roger was mean to her one night and she came to see me in the park. I remember her pretty hair then, too, so long and wild. Her top fell off her shoulders. I think she wanted to impress me, but Maisie never had to try. She could have worn a garbage can and I'd still have thought she was so special. Do you know I think I fell in love with her when she walked in that day? David did, too. The difference was the way we loved her. David's Maisie's equal. Her other half. Her true love. I'm her servant, her worshipper. Not because she's mean to me, or expects it from me, but because I wouldn't want to be anything else to her. I love her so much that I can't imagine a dream more sweet than making her happy.

After that night she never went back to Roger's. He was so, so mean to her. I told her I'd never be mean like that. I was worse, though. Roger must have seemed like nothing in comparison with what I did. I know it was wrong, but I needed my Maisie. I needed her. I needed her and my best friend ran away and my girlfriend who I loved so much before Maisie made me forget ran away. My band ran away. Everyone was running away. I couldn't bear if Maisie ran away, especially because I knew I wasn't alone in my feelings. I had to keep her so she'd stay and not desert me like the others. 

It killed me when Pink Floyd left me behind. I tried to make music but it was so painful I had to give my guitar away and forget it. But Maisie being taken from me was just as bad in a different way. I didn't get to say goodbye either time. Roger and Nick and Rick and David never picked me up, and David ripped my whole heart right from my body when he carried her off. Both times I was taken by surprise and left alone to deal with the consequences. It was hell. I never touched a guitar again after my second album, but after that day I never loved anyone else. My heart went with Maisie and there was never a woman around who when I looked at her I didn't think "she's pretty, but she's not her". I sometimes barely felt attracted to anyone else. She was my end all and be all. 

"Unfortunately, baths get pretty tepid and nasty after awhile, but once we are done here we can move to our bedroom if you want." Our bedroom. That sounds so sweet. It's not my bedroom anymore like it had been for so, so many years… it's ours. I don't think I'm used to Maisie being mine yet. Even though she's slept in my bed, and we've shared my home, it's strange to know that both the bed and the whole home are now ours, not mine. It fills me with a deep sense of belonging and joy to share a home with Maisie again. I pull her head back and see the love in her eyes that I was never sure was there before tonight. I let the water out of the tub, and as I stand up I offer Maisie my hand.

We stand before one another, wet and dripping and covered in bubbles. Shyly, I look her over again, her nakedness displayed before me like an art exhibit. She always reminded me of a Mucha painting in our youth but even now she still does. She grabs a towel and dries me off, and I'm blushing so hard as she hits my private bits. I wish I could use them. I'd do everything the way she wanted it. I can't get it out of my head that I'm supposed to have sex with her, at least sex of some kind. 

"Do you want me to...well, I can't do anything that involves, you know, having an erection, but do you want me to touch you more? Is that something you need from me?" She reaches out to stroke my cheek; her soft hand is anathema to my rough skin, but she savors every touch anyway as if it doesn't feel old and broken to her. If I had known I'd end up married to the most amazing woman that was ever created I'd have taken better care of myself so that when she came back for me I'd be able to do everything she needs a husband to do. 

"Why are you so worried about it?" 

"I want to give you everything you need." She smiles again, and as she towels herself off, but I take the towel from her. "Let me help. You helped me." Her eyes are approving and soft until she closes them and smiles, and I lean in and kiss her eyelids as I towel her body off with tender care to reach every single perfect spot. When I reach her velvety muff I pause only for a moment to search my love's eyes for approval. She reaches for my hand and pushes it closer with a reassuring smile. 

"Don't be nervous. You've been there before." Giving her a meek nod, I dry her and linger there for a second praying for my body to cooperate. I try to will myself erect, begging my body to give me the chance to please my Queen, to love all of her completely, to be lucky enough to feel the feeling of being inside her. I pray as hard as I can, but it doesn't come. I hate every man who's been with her this way recently. I want this so much. I want her so much. I never thought before now that I still felt like this at all. The depths of my longing hit me with the force of a tidal wave; I didn't know how much desire I felt for Maisie's body until I looked at it just now and realized that I'd give anything, anything to make my body work. I'd sacrifice so much just to taste my Maisie again, to watch her writhe while I worship her perfect pink rose with my tongue and kiss her everywhere. I only want to please my beautiful goddess, to be inside her, to feel her hands on me where since 1969 I've only ever let her go. If my fucking cock would just work...if I could just make myself hard...I would worship and obey my loving Queen and gratefully take the reward of being inside her mouth or inside her: the most powerful place on her body, where when we were young I fit so perfectly. I try to think of how it would feel and what it would look like to be deep inside her as she desperately wraps her arms around me, her body in spasms as I treat every thrust inside her like the first one until she screams, and begs me to give her more.

Not even a tingle. Nothing. It doesn't move. My erection never comes, no matter how much I long for every part of Maisie, for the chance to find new places and new ways to touch her that give her unyielding pleasure. This is agony. I'm in absolute agony. I want her so much, more than I can handle, and I can't hack it.

"I want to please you." She moves both her hands to each side of my face and holds my face in her hands, leans her face into mine, and kisses me gently on both cheeks. 

"You do. I don't need that from you, baby. Don't worry about it. You can forget it, Syd. Okay? Sex wouldn't be good for you if you had to force it."

"I wouldn't have to force it if my body worked the way it should." 

"Your body works just right for me."


	53. Maisie - London, September 2006 - The Hotel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!

I roll over on top of David and spread my legs over his hips. He holds onto my hips and I move my pussy against his shaft, stimulating my clit with it.

"You're incredible, David Gilmour. The most incredible man on the planet." As moans of pleasure leave the deepest parts of his body he grabs my ass and pushes me against his cock.

"It makes sense that we're made for each other, then, because you're the most incredible woman on the planet. And by the way, if anyone else said that I would think they were full of shit." We both laugh at the way we have always known when the other is telling the truth. That's why it's weird that he hasn't figured out I'm not telling him something. With a light pat on the bottom he signals to me that he wants me to ride him, just like I did last night.

"Do you want me to ride your cock, baby?" He grabs my hair and pulls me in for a deep kiss.

"You know I'd never say no." I am so wet for David that we don't even need lube. I slide down onto his cock and he pushes his hips up and down while I bounce on him, letting my breasts freely jiggle even though I don't want to...I know my man loves it. Is that wrong, that I call him my man? He really isn't, is he? He's her man, I'm just the one who made the mistake of giving him up. 

"David, I love your cock."

"And I love this sweet pussy." I ride him harder and harder, savoring every feeling of his hard shaft inside my walls: the way it forces itself inside my hole, breaks me and throws me into an unearthly pleasure. David's grunts and the jerking of his hips drive me wild.

"Get on top of me, David. I want to kiss you." With the force of a tractor trailer he throws me down onto my back and pumps me full of his thick, raging erection. We slam into one another's bodies. If he could get his cock further up into me I think he would. I throw my arms around his thick neck and pull his face toward mine, planting a kiss on his lips that seems like it could go on forever. Anyone who was watching us would wonder how two people could possibly kiss this passionately for this long without needing to breathe. I let every longing, loving feeling into my every kiss and every touch, and he does, too. 

I can feel both of his hands on my bottom, gripping my round cheeks and holding them there so he can hit just the right angle.

"You're the love of my life; you're my heart. I don't know how I've gone on this long without you…" I whisper.

"You'll never go without me again. Never. My true love, you're stuck with me."

"I'm happy to be your prisoner." 

"Prisoner, hm?" We used to sometimes play with rope or fake handcuffs. I should have bought some at the "pleasure boutique" I went to before I came here last night. 

"I'll hold you down if you want." I nod like I've never wanted anything more in my life. He smirks and lets out an excited, mischievous laugh as he takes my wrists in his hands and goes back to thrusting so hard into me that I can feel our bodies slamming together and it's almost painful. It would be painful if it weren't so, so good. 

"Let me go…" I playfully whine. He knows I don't mean it; I know he does. His grip on my wrists tightens, and he nibbles my earlobe. 

"You belong to me, Maisie. Only me. I won't let you go. No man has ever loved you like I do. I don't want anyone even looking at you." 

"All I want is to belong to you."

"Good. You don't have a choice. I'm never, never letting you get away. You can try all you want: I'm here to stay and I'll fight until I die." With his hands gripping me hard and his cock slamming into me and his lips on my ear and neck I can feel myself releasing a mind blowing orgasm. Soon after I feel his cock pulse and jerk inside my body, brushing my g spot with each furious thrust. 

"I love you, David: truly, deeply, maddeningly, and I will never leave again. You won't have to fight; I'm here to stay. Even if you stay married I will be here any time you want me."

"Don't say that... I'll never leave you alone, then." 

"I'd give anything for you never to leave me alone." 

We've collapsed into the mattress in a messy, sweaty heap, and we're breathing heavy and taking one another in, savoring the scent of our sex and the sound of one another's breaths. It's like we're afraid to move, afraid to leave one another behind. There's nowhere in the universe that I'd rather be than here, now, in this moment with my David.


	54. Maisie - Cambridge, 1967

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!

_Syd sneaks his hand between my legs and gently feels around my lips until he opens them to brush his fingers against my rosebud. He rolls over on his side, fondling me with his hand while staring down at me, those beautiful brown eyes glowing like amber. The vines and flowers in his hair make him look even more like a satyr, and I feel like a goddess. _

_"Your body is so smooth, and your flower is so wet for me. I like you so much. I won't hurt you, Maisie. Never. Never ever. I'd do anything for the privilege of being inside you, my beautiful diamond princess." I do feel like I'm his princess. He can have whatever he wants. _

_"Yes, my satyr prince, I want you to be inside me." He kisses my forehead, moves his hand away and pulls me up until we are sitting across from each other. He straightens my back and I push out my chest, which even I see is covered in diamond and emerald necklaces now._

_"Let me look at you in all your glory. All of those diamonds and emeralds...how doesn't anyone else see your royalty?" I see him looking at me, the longing in his sweet eyes so stark it could light the entire night up, but we are surrounded by a beautiful white light that is telling me that Syd is who I should be with, who should love me. He reaches his hands out to gently touch my naked breasts and my tummy and my face: my prince, my lover. _

_I throw my head back, enraptured, as Syd leans down to take my breast in his mouth, and I feel his pristine tongue and lips playing gently with my nipple: teasing and flicking and sucking and kissing. I lie back and feel the soft grass, wet and cool with dew, pressing against my back as my love climbs up on top of me. I see his hair, all silky and wild, and the clouds at night in his eyes. I see him decked in plants, flowers, vines as he mounts me and I'm spreading my legs for him, I need to be one with him. With his hands on either side of my head he perches over me, I see him staring into my eyes. I feel so shy. He's like a milkshake: he's delicious and creamy and I'm in heaven when he smiles at me, his hard cock resting against my opening._

_"Do you want me the way I want you?" _

_"I don't know, but I know I've never wanted any other boy this way." _

_"I've never met a sweet girl like you, Maisie, my Silly Whim. Do you promise you'll come back to see me again?" It isn't a difficult thing to promise._

_"Yes, yes, of course I promise. You're so delicious. I want to put whipped cream on you and eat you up." He giggles like a kid, and oh how I love that about him. "You're my Peter Pan."_

_"Then you're my Wendy."_

_"Not Tinkerbell?"_

_"No, I've had enough of Tinkerbells. I've always been with Tinkerbells. You're my Wendy." I open my legs wide for him and with my arms around his neck I pull him down toward me, and I feel him entering me. His cock pushes into my opening: gently, slowly and with care. Never forceful or unfeeling like Roger. I reach my hand up and grab a bunch of grass as I feel Syd thrusting in and out of me, and it all feels so magical. He's so shiny and perfect, beautiful and iridescent. We laugh as we feel the unadulterated pleasure of our love. For me it's a new height: I've never felt this way, I've never been loved this good. I've never been taken to my limits like this: stretched out and fully appreciated. Syd makes love to all of me: my body, my mind and my heart. _

_"I've never felt this way," I moan as I welcome him into me over and over again. His hips collide with mine, our legs are glued together, we couldn't stop now even if we wanted to. _

_"Me either. I don't remember any girl I liked before you. Not one name or face. I promise you that I'll always be yours if you'll let me." _

_"Yes, I'll let you. You're so beautiful. I never want you to go away." We laugh again, and kiss so sweetly while our bodies fight to become one._

_"I'm going to fall so deep in love with you, and never, ever ever fall out of it," he whispers to me. His words feel like cool water against my cheek: refreshing and life giving, "I'm your royal subject, my princess." I watch his eyes shut tight with a pleasured smile, and he bites his lip as I feel his cock starting to jerk inside my body. When he pulls out of me I feel like a new woman, one who is loved and cherished and appreciated. Now I know that Syd is the one I want to be with._


	55. David's Wife - Sussex, England, 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preview!

The nerve of that asshole walking out of here to go sit by himself. The absolute fucking nerve. Who does he think he is? Maybe other people worship the ground David walks on, but not me. Not anymore. From this moment on all the love and adoration and respect I thrust upon David automatically is gone until he does the right thing and either ends things with May and never speaks to her again, or ends our marriage. Until he can stand up and be a fucking man, I guess for once in the time I've known him, I'm fucking done. As long as he's here he's in the guest room because now he's nothing but a guest in my home. A guest I'm not very familiar with, too. 

There's the guitar coming from the garage. Yep. That's always been his MO: get into a fight with me, get overwhelmed, and run off without saying shit to me to go play guitar instead of talking about his feelings. That, more than anything before now, always annoyed the piss out of me. Just talk to me, David, I'd beg. I wonder if he talks to May about his feelings. Wouldn't surprise me. Seems like she got a lot of things I've never gotten. Probably still gets a lot of things I've never gotten.

You don't want to talk to me, asshole? Fine. I'll go to the next best place. I lock the bedroom door and pick up David's phone on what used to be his bedside table. Very trusting to leave that here, or was that an oversight? Because now I'm going through it, and you know what I am looking for.

Let's look in the text messages, shall we? 

Let's see…

Oh, there she is. Right on top. Even Rick is farther down than she is. Only an hour ago, in fact. Wow. Right as I was walking into the room. Real nice. 

I miss you already. Come home soon. "Home". Yeah, their love nest in the States is home, then, and not the home I've spent years building for him. Isn't that just so fucking sweet? Doesn't it make you want to vomit? Because I really and truly want nothing more to vomit all over this fucking phone and then leave it on his bed.

I'll be there. We only have to make it for a month. I miss you more. 

That's it.

I'm calling this bitch. And I'm doing it from his phone so I know she will pick up.

If David won't tell me anything, maybe May will. After all, she's the one who told me that she and David had been together for so long. 

The phone rings twice before I hear that velvety voice on the other end of the line.

"May?" She pauses, like she knows it's me. Good. Be afraid.

"Is this…"

"Yeah, it's me. It's exactly who you think it is, and I'm calling for the exact reason why you think I'm calling." I hope she's shaking with terror right now, unsure what she's supposed to tell me, worried she'll fuck everything up with David if she says the wrong thing. Go ahead, bitch, say the wrong fucking thing. It would serve you right if he walked out on you.

"I see." 

"That's all you have to say, hm?" 

"I'm not really sure what I should say." I shake my head and I laugh out loud.

"That's about what I expected you to say. That's what your boyfriend said, too: that he doesn't know what to say to me. One of you has to say something, and I'd rather rake muck than try to pull anything out of him right now. Thought maybe you, as a woman, would be a little bit easier to talk to."

"Look…"

"Don't make any excuses to me, May. I don't want to hear it. What I want to hear is exactly what's going on here, and why the fuck you would ever do this. I'd never do this to another woman. Never." 

"I didn't do it to hurt you."

"That's exactly one of the excuses I just fucking asked you not to make." 

"What do you want me to say?" What the fuck does David see in this idiot? 

"Tell me how you sleep at night. Tell me why the hell you ever thought for a second that sleeping with a married man was okay. One thing I want to know is did the two of you sneak off after the memorial service to have sex?"

"Yes. Yes, we did. Roger lied to you so we could have some time together. We used his hotel room." There it is. I knew something was off when I heard David would be hanging out with Roger. I knew it, because David has no warm feelings for Roger Waters at all, and hasn't for many, many years. 

"That's what I thought. Thank you. Thank you for clearing that up. So did you reject those letters David sent you, or did you just never get them?" The line goes very, very quiet, even quieter than it did when she first heard my voice. Touched a nerve, I think. Good.

"I'm sorry, but what letters?" Ah, so she hadn't rejected them. I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt there. She never got them. 

"Oh, you didn't know. David wrote you three letters in the time he and I have been together. The first in 1992, the second in 1996, and the third in 2004. They were all returned to our home, and I found them a few days ago. Seems he was trying to find you. All three letters were sent to different places in Maine, which by the way, is how I figured out you two have been sleeping together. They're all very sappy and full of longing, if that's something you needed to hear." Still, the line is quiet until I can hear a small sniffle like she's started crying. Boo fucking hoo. The nerve.

"No, I...I had no idea. I never heard from him, I swear to you. This all is very recent; there was never a time before the memorial service where David and I were speaking. I thought he'd forgotten me." Yeah, if only, right?

"Well, do you want to know what he told me? I'll preface this by saying that he never even told me about you on his own: I only heard about you from a story Rick started telling about you and David at a party we were at. I'd never even heard your name before, and as soon as Rick said it, I saw David shake his head like he was telling Rick not to mention you. So I asked David, 'who's Maisie?' And do you know what he said?"

"I don't. Tell me." Hopefully this is enough to sow some discord between them.

"Said you were a fling that lasted for six months, and that it never meant much to him. He told me not to worry about it, and that the only reason he never told me was that he didn't think it was all that important." 

"That's funny you say that, because I've told all my partners that, also. It's just easier that way. I didn't want anyone to know that I still loved him, and also from my perspective it was better not to have to answer a shit ton of questions all the time." Now that I understand. 

"Ah. Your partners. Never been married, have you?"

"No, I've been married."

"Divorce?"

"My husband passed away last year." 

"So you told your husband how long you had been with David? At least you had the decency to do that."

"I didn't need to tell him; he already knew." 

I kind of feel bad for her now. She lost her husband, and then ran into her lost love, and was only looking for some comfort, and maybe to forget. That makes sense, but still...she knew he was married. There's a lot of men out there. Hell, I watched Roger check her out. She could have fucked him. We all know that marriage is doomed, anyway. No, she chose my husband to drown her sorrows in. 

"I see. I'm very sorry to hear that. What happened?"

"He was very sick with cancer." Lost her husband to cancer. That's actually very sad. When I met May, Rick told me she'd never married. I wonder why he didn't know. I guess it makes sense that he wouldn't be aware that his bandmate's ex girlfriend had married someone else. 

"Well, that's awful."

"Don't feel sorry for me. He and I had a very lovely time together in the last few months. I do miss him every day, though."

"Does David know?"

"Yes, David knows." 

"Listen...just...why? Why my husband? Why couldn't you leave him alone?" 

"You're right. I guess I have a lot to explain, but I don't know how to explain anything without sounding like I'm making excuses."

"Don't worry about that, then. What matters to me is getting some answers, because David won't give them to me."


	56. David - London, September 2006 - The Hotel

I was awake when Maisie left the bed last night to go to the bathroom, and I heard her sobbing, so I know now there's definitely something she isn't telling me. That's sad, I really thought she trusted me. I guess there's only one way to broach this topic. 

I sit up next to her and offer her my hand to pull her up too so we're sitting next to one another. 

"Is everything alright, babe?" A terrified look crosses her face: a wide-eyed, haunted look of dread. So there is something I don't know, something she's afraid of me finding out, but what could it be?

"Well, why do you ask?" 

"Well first of all, you got all sorts of defensive about your necklace. And second of all, I know about you going to the bathroom last night. I didn't follow you because I thought you might need some space, and it's pretty obvious there's something you aren't telling me. I thought if I followed you that would be too much pressure. There's nothing that you could possibly say that would change how I feel about you, Maisie. You can trust me." Her beautiful eyes well up with tears, and I can tell she's trying to swallow them, but they roll down her cheeks, leaving wet trails down her face. Unlike last night, she's not lost in sobs, but the despair she feels is noticeable.

"Are you sure you won't be angry?" I'm not sure what I could possibly have to be angry about. There's nothing she could do that could make me angry at her, not now, not after missing her for 20 years.

"Yes, babe, I promise I won't be angry. Something's got you terribly upset, and I'd like to know what it is, and if I can help." She looks over at me, her cheeks stained with tears, and with more tears on the way. What started off a misting has grown into a torrential downpour the more she tries to push herself to respond. Something is very hard for her. I wonder if she's in some kind of trouble? I know for sure that she isn't struggling financially. Maybe she's in another relationship, and that relationship has been having problems?

"Well...the thing is...you know how I went to stay with Syd, right?" Oh, tell me he laid a hand on her again. Tell me he did something, anything to hurt her. I knew she shouldn't have gone back there. When Roger told me she was there I just remember feeling so angry and wishing I could have intervened to stop it. I still remember that time at the studio when he showed up, and how he saw her for one second before I dragged her out of the room and sent Nick's wife in with her. She didn't even realize the fat bald man that showed up was Syd, but oh, he knew who Maisie was, alright. He made such a fucking scene...poor Rick and Jane, it was their wedding reception. Screamed and howled and sobbed like a mental patient. We had to drag him off into another room. Roger was in tears. I bet you anything he hurt her in some way.

"Oh, yes, I remember. What did he do to you?" I can hear the hostile edge to my voice, and that's probably not helping. If he hurt her I'm done publicly pretending that I feel anything but pity for that man. I did my part; I made sure he got paid and helped keep his music alive by performing his songs. Beyond that, I don't owe him or his "memory" anything. I'm no longer going to play into the "poor, whimsical acid tragedy" narrative. The man was a cruel nutter who liked to lock women in closets and sit outside their home for hours, and I'm tired of pretending he was anything else. I feel resentful of having to pretend to feel differently than I actually do sometimes. But I do it mostly because our personal lives have no place in my career or public image, and it's always been agreed upon that none of us told anyone in Cambridge who may know him about Syd and what he did to Maisie to avoid having it spoken about in interviews by others. Mostly it was to avoid re-victimizing her, but for Roger it was also about protecting his best friend.

I've never repeated it to anyone outside the circle of the band: myself, Maisie and the other boys, and their wives or girlfriends. I'm sure Maisie has told friends or other partners she's had (and all her therapists, one would hope), but as far as I always knew it wasn't something Maisie ever really talked about. We really tried not to talk about it, in fact. 

It does sort of feel like a kind of injustice; Syd was a beautiful soul before he went off the rails, and for quite a bit I felt like I'd been beaten when it came to those two. It was like in an instant that Maisie transformed from being timid and quiet to being sort of timid but very friendly, especially with the other girls. She was happy.

She stopped wearing her schoolgirl type outfits, and moved on to more of a whimsical kind of vibe, often with some orange lilies Syd tied in her hair. It was like just by getting out of Roger's Maisie had blossomed into a more...sexy version of herself. But still so cute, too. All of a sudden Maisie was hot. That was something. That was certainly something.

Maisie and Syd were a beautiful couple, just in all the ways a couple can be beautiful. They were both physically beautiful people, and they were always sort of sweet around one another. Both of them seemed deliriously happy. I was convinced I had no chance because Maisie was by all appearances smitten, as was Syd with her. 

_Silly Whim_. What a nickname. _Wendy_, sometimes too. Some kind of in joke between them, I think. I had just started to accept defeat when Syd started going bad. Then she was miserable again, but she was still so devoted to him that I don't think she saw anyone else. She certainly never saw me. Or Roger. Maisie was friendly with Nick and Amelia, though And she continued to be completely devoted to Syd, refusing to ever admonish him for his behavior and rushing to his side as soon as she was summoned. I thought then she deserved better than that, as did everyone else. We sent Amelia to talk to her once, trying to tell her she didn't need to spend her youth taking care of Syd and she should think about leaving. She refused: she loved him too much to leave him on his own, and she was going to help him get better. A lot of good that did for her.

And then she got locked in a closet, and that was that. Syd could have probably married Maisie back then if he hadn't deteriorated: that's how absolutely crazy she was about him. We all knew it, and I thought it was funny how Roger knew it and was at times obviously jealous of Syd. Roger probably did like Maisie, too, but she was relationship material, and Roger wasn't looking for a relationship (and I don't think he wants one now even though he's married). I'm pretty sure he did like her. He wasn't exactly subtle, standing around her all the time. 

"David...Syd didn't do anything to me. Nothing harmful or bad, anyway. It wasn't like that." I feel better knowing that, actually, but then what could possibly be making her cry? 

"Well, that's certainly good to know. Why are you crying then, Maisie?" 

"David…" She's shaking: trembling. Whatever it is must be really hard for her to tell me.

"Maisie, baby, just tell me. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Not until it's time to go, anyway." I try my best to give her a wide and reassuring smile so she can feel a little more comfortable. Watching her cry makes me want to cry. 

"He was nothing like what he used to be. He completely made up for everything. I fell in love with him, David, and we got married about three months before he passed. I really wasn't planning on it; I was convinced that there'd be nothing there, but I was wrong. Really, really wrong. " I'm certainly not angry. I can see why she thought I might be: privately, I've never had anything positive to say about Syd, and for good reason, but if he changed and she found something in him to love that makes this an entirely different story. If he changed so much that one of the people he hurt most besides his own mother could marry him then I don't think I have any right being angry anymore. And it's just the kind of thing Maisie would do: give someone who hurt her in such a profound way the benefit of the doubt, and then fall in love with and marry them. I know she thought it would upset me, but it makes me love her even more. It reaffirms to me that she's still the woman I knew and loved back then, the woman who is overflowing with compassion and forgiveness (except for Roger it seems) and who is always open to giving love a chance. I wonder if they ever made love. I suppose they had to have. It doesn't matter, better not to think about it.

"I think that's sweet, Maisie. I'm not angry." I can feel myself starting to cry, too, but I'm not sure why. Maybe it's sort of a bittersweet feeling: I had thought perhaps Syd was able to have some semblance of a normal life, but it was probably a rather peaceful and happy last few months that he had being married to Maisie, who, like me, he never let go (I can't decide whether I pity or admire the fact that Syd never moved on with someone else). If it's true that Syd really changed, and that he'd treated Maisie with enough respect and love that she'd fallen in love with him, then that's enough for me to feel he deserved that happy and peaceful end to his life. Now it makes sense why she's crying: Maisie lost her husband. Granted, it was a short marriage, but it was a marriage nonetheless, and that has to be devastating. I wrap my arm around her shoulder and lean over to kiss her on the top of her head. 

"I'm sorry, David. I really thought that I would be able to avoid it last night. The truth is it's been happening every night since he died. I cry myself to sleep every night now, or if I don't, I wake up in tears and then cry myself back to sleep. Last night was the first night I was able to calm myself down. Maybe it's having you back." 

"Are you sure you want to see me again? You might not be ready. I don't want you to feel pressured, what with me talking about getting a house." She turns toward me, and now she looks upset. I was trying to be considerate, but I think she took it the wrong way.

"The last thing I want after today is to stop seeing you." She's got a serious demeanor; I'm pretty sure that she thought I was trying to back out.

"Maisie, make no mistake: say the word and I'll be looking at houses in Maine the minute I get home. It's up to you, that's all I'm saying. If you want more time, I'm not going anywhere." I pull her in close to me and she squeezes my waist. "So, you really fell in love with him, did you?"


	57. Maisie- Freeport, Maine December 2005 - Maisie's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now we are going to add Maisie's point of view with Syd, because she's set to steer the story in Volume 2.

Still holding my phone in my hand, clenched tight, I'm wondering if I made the right decision. I could have just put myself in a potentially dangerous situation just based on a gut feeling. What kind of a gut feeling, anyway? I don't even know what it is; I just know that I have it. 

It spooked me, finding out that was Syd on the other end of the line. I had no idea what he could possibly be calling for, and my immediate reaction was to hang up and refuse to take any more calls. I even had my finger on the red "end call" button, ready to cut him off in two seconds and forget the whole thing, or at least call my therapist for an emergency session to deal with my feelings about it.

And I would have done that, and maybe some would argue I should have done that, if I didn't have this weird nagging feeling.

_Go, Maisie. You'll be happy if you go._

Happy? Really, I'll be happy if I go see my fucking tormenter and stalker? 

_Yes. Keep an open mind._

I've never been one to disregard a gut feeling, not since the last time I had one that I didn't listen to (which was a gut feeling telling me Syd was dangerous). But that's not going to stop me from wondering about it. This time, if he's a mess mentally, I'm leaving as soon as possible and never answering another phone call. Now I've got his number so I'll know what calls to ignore. He sounded better, though, and it does not surprise me for one second that he'd know he was dying before any doctor could tell him. He was always weirdly able to read minds; I saw him do it multiple times: pass people sugar before they asked for it, blurt out a thought that was in somebody else's head, whatever. So if Syd says he's dying, he probably is.

And I can imagine that he's lonely. The last I heard about Syd was from Roger in the early 80s, saying he was living with his mother in Cambridge, and not seeing or speaking to anyone, and that overall things were not well. Oh, and he had asked Roger about me. 

_"Syd asked for you. Asked how you're doing. I just told him you're still with David, and doing well. I was careful not to reveal too much." _

So between feeling like he's dying, and probably not having many people but family to spend time with, it makes sense that he'd reach out to someone he was close to. But I can't help wondering why it couldn't have been Roger, and why it had to be me. It's really scary thinking about going and being with him again. Why'd he even think of me, anyway? I was his girlfriend way back in the late 60s; it's been almost 40 years, so why me? 

I was doing so well, too: finally moving past it, learning not to be angry at him anymore, and learning not to have meltdowns in small enclosed spaces anymore. I think that part was the most difficult. It took me years not to lose my mind if I was stuck in some kind of a small space with no escape like a train or something. For a long time afterwards I couldn't keep my clothes in a closet, or if I had to, someone (most of the time David) had to go in and out for me. The whole ordeal left me really, really fucked up. 

But like I said, I was moving on. Things were starting to feel a whole lot lighter. I had the biggest success of my life last year. Everything has been really coming together: I've got a sort of boyfriend right now, my friends and I are living together in this big 5 bedroom rental, and I'm overall in a really good place at the moment.

So of course when I'm really doing great that's when one of them would contact me again, specifically the one that hurt me the most. It couldn't be David. No, of course not. David's got a wife and a ton of kids. Hell, I'd take Roger over Syd, wouldn't I? Yeah, no, actually. But if he did call, at least then I wouldn't feel bad telling him to fuck off. Syd got sick, Roger is just a slimy douchebag.

Maybe I should call Syd back and cancel. I don't know. 

_You should really go, Maisie._

Ugh.

I gotta get out of my bedroom.

The girls are all out in the sitting room...well, not all of them, but Gloria, Alice and Linda are there. That's good; I don't really feel like being alone right now. 

"Hey, Maisie, we were just talking about something you might be interested in."

"That's funny, because I've got something interesting to tell you guys."


	58. Roger - Cambridge, 1968 - Roger's House

_I shouldn't have done that. Why did I do it? She's allowed to reject me; I should let her reject me. _

_What bullshit calling a girl names is, you prick. What's wrong with you? And why her? She didn't do anything wrong. Why do you push the people you like away? Why are you so stupid and mean? Why does it upset you when people want to he close to you? All you've ever wanted was closeness and yet you spit at it whenever it's offered. _

_Maisie's such a nice girl. She's so nice, and sweet, and a great listener, and before I fucked up she thought everything I had to say was so fascinating. I know I shouldn't hurt her. I'm just so bloody pissed off because I was trying to be real, to try to just feel my feelings with her, and she didn't let me. I don't usually want to even try. I tried with him too, and he didn't push me away until after I hurt him...just like her. _

_You know I don't talk to Maisie much, but I actually do listen. I know I said l wasn't listening, but I do listen to Maisie when she talks to other people, and I can tell she's very warm. I know she is really fucking smart. She knows a lot about politics, but I knew that already. I knew how smart she is. When she isn't shy with Nick and his wife Amelia or any of Rick's girlfriends I hear her sometimes. But I can't turn it into respect or love for her, or can I? If I could only let myself feel something besides anger and disinterest I'd be able to show her._

_I can't let her stay, though. It would hurt just to be around her. Plus I know where she's gone, and I'm not going to tolerate that. At least I put up the illusion of being her boyfriend enough not to sneak around. I never cheated on her. Never. I never even thought about it, and I usually do. I have cheated on every other girl I've called my girlfriend. Every single one, but I never even thought that I might want to cheat on Maisie. I've barely noticed another girl in months. She's just so … she's something. I'm not used to it. There's hot girls everywhere, lots hotter than her too, but I never wanted her to be hot like that... I love how cute and sort of bookish she is. No I don't. Shut up. You're so stupid. You've never liked girls like her. _

_Fuck you, Maisie, if you're with my best friend right now. How could you do that to me when I've never even thought to do it to you? And you, Syd, you're even worse. Coming in and going right for my girl right from the off, you wanker. I can't believe it. I've never gone after any of your girls. I wouldn't either, and won't. And both of you...I guess I wouldn't mind if...oh, fuck it. You'd never agree to that anyway._

_I hate the way he ties those stupid wildflowers in her hair even though he knows she's my girlfriend, damn it, and I despise the way she looks so free and wild in them. Her strange, otherworldly beauty annoys the piss out of me, you know. I don't even like girls that that. I like blondes, anyway. She's not even my type. _

_And I really fucking hate how much Maisie laughs when Syd talks to her. I could never make her laugh except that one time when I destroyed her aunt's bedroom. I saw that day when he touched her face and played with her hair. They don't know, but I saw them sitting there, and I saw that innocent look of stupid teenage love they shared. And I saw David, too, that sneaky fucker, when he dropped that note in her bag. Syd took credit for it, but I should have beaten him to the punch. I seem to have picked a woman everyone likes. Except me. I don't even like her. I don't. I fucking don't, okay?_

_I'm lying, though. You already know that. I already told you, and I'm still lying about it because it enraged me, no...no, it horrifies me. It's just like with… Don't think about it, Roger. It will just add a whole new layer of hurt to this if you think about it. You fucked that up too in exactly the same way, and you should feel bad about it, but you're not going to think about it. But why do they have to...with each other? That's the worst thing that could have happened. Stop it. _

_She's never looked at me the way she looked at Syd that day. I never knew I wanted her to, but I do, and now I can't let her stay here. I'm putting her shit on the porch, and she can figure things out. Let Syd come to the rescue. I saw the way you let him look at you, Maisie. You would have let him kiss you too if you hadn't been interrupted, and you haven't let me kiss you in months, and god knows how I've craved it.   
I've wanted your lips on mine, playing cat and mouse with me, letting me fight for every kiss you give me. I've wanted your softness and needed you to be close, to be the only one I feel safe talking to. That's what you are: you're the closest one to me. You listen to me. _

_Every time I get tired of a girl I have no qualms about throwing her away, but this time it feels different. This time it's very hard. I like having Maisie at my house. She's helpful, and until recently she made my apartment feel warm, and though I never told her she made me feel comforted. But I don't want her here if I can hurt her the way that I have, and I won't tolerate sneaking around._

_It hurts. I didn't think I wanted her at all...she was just another dumb bird to fuck. No, she wasn't. Why are you saying that? Maisie's different. I don't know. I don't know how to tell her she's different to me, or in what way she's different, but I feel a lot more rotten about this than I have about getting rid of the others. I absolutely can't stand the way this feels. I feel like I want to fucking vomit._

_Maisie has to get out of here if only because it will hurt to look at her now that I've seen her with Syd. It'll rip me apart. But why?? What the fuck? This is such rubbish. I feel like I'm being weighed down by tar._

_It can't fucking be. It just can't. This has never happened before with a girl . _

_I like her, god fucking damnit. I like her a lot. Blast it all to hell. I've got to stay away from her. I don't want to talk to her. But I feel like Maisie will be around for a long time, and I'm going to have to learn to exist aside her. _

_I'll just keep watch over her, I guess: make sure she's okay. Listening to her talk, learning who she is. I'll stay away from talking to her for now, but I'll always check, and maybe listen. Maybe I'll try to see what's inside Maisie, that way I can figure out what it is that makes her so fascinating. I'll study her. _

_And I'll protect her if I have to. _

_Just finished putting Maisie's belongings out on the front porch._

_Goodbye. What a shame. _


	59. Syd - Cambridge, April 2006 - Syd and Maisie's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!

I follow Maisie back to our bedroom. We're both still naked. It's nice to be naked with Maisie, it feels very intimate like she said. 

But I watch her body as she walks, and the way her hips swing with each step, and the look of her shapely thighs, and I feel hopeless to fight against the desire my mind feels that my body can't show. I feel such a deep hunger for the taste of Maisie's body, for the feeling of oneness that being inside her always brought to me. I yearn for the pleasure I always felt knowing she was enjoying what I did for her.

I want her. I want to try. I don't think I can be happy until I know for sure that we tried. Maybe all I need is to taste the sweet fruit of her garden, and that will be enough for me to be able to perform. She stops for a second and I let my arms slowly creep around her waist. She places her arms on top of mine, and I squeeze her and move one arm up to wrap around her shoulders.

"Maisie, I think I want to try. Will you please give me a chance to see if I can be with you that way?" She turns around to look at me, and I'm afraid to see disgust in her eyes, but I see only my Maisie's beautiful smile. With her milky arms around my neck she pulls me down for a kiss: a slow, welcoming and sensual kiss. 

"You don't have to feel pressured." I grab hold of Maisie's waist with a desperate force. She needs to know I don't feel pressured. I want her. I'm craving her body. I lean down, get close to her lips, stare into her eyes, and then whisper in her ear. I can feel my lips against it as I make sure I speak my words with the utmost respect and admiration for my lady. 

"I'm craving your taste, and your touch. At least please let me feel the pleasure of knowing I could bring you ecstasy." I stop just short of kissing Maisie's neck without permission. "May I, my Queen?" I can feel her shiver and she brings my face to her neck, inviting my kiss.

"You may," comes Maisie's firm answer. Gentle, but enough to let me know it's important that I always ask her permission. I trail my lips along her neck and her collarbones: her beautiful prominent collarbones. I can feel her eiderdown skin against my lips, and I taste her just a little bit with my tongue. Her skin tastes as sweet as she is. She smells like the lavender soap bubbles from our bath, and the ends of her moonlight hair are wet from falling into the water. 

I've never loved Maisie more than I do right now, feeling her hands on me, encouraging me to keep on with what I'm doing. She brings my hand to her breast, and I do as I did before and explore it with the tips of my eager fingers, enjoying the full bodied experience of every single touch. Her nipples remind me of the dials on a guitar, and so I treat them as such, gently twisting them as she lets a contented moan escape her full, pink lips. I love to know I'm pleasing my Maisie. 

With her full breast in my hand I lose myself in the delicious chocolates of her eyes. I look down and stare so deep into the pure soul that lives inside this beautiful package of the woman I love beyond all others. I turn her face up toward mine. I can feel the intense current of the spark that's passing between us, leading my hand to Maisie's other lovely breast, but I think that I'd rather touch her somewhere else.

"I'd like to…Maisie, may I touch you...here?" I let my hand drift just short of touching her mound, and let it linger on one of her finely crafted hip bones. She squirms just a little against me. For one second I feel as if I might have some kind of power over her as I wait patiently for her answer with my fingers tracing her hip bone.

"You may, Syd, if we can lay down." 

"Anything for you, my Maisie." She lies down on our bed, the one she bought for us, and she spreads her legs for me. I see her beautiful flower there... right there, waiting for me...yet I'm very nervous now. I thought I could do this, but it looks like I'm too scared. "I'm afraid I don't remember what to do. I'm sorry…" She strokes my cheek as I sit up beside her, feeling very sorry for myself.

'"I'll tell you exactly what I want you to do for me, you know. If you need help."


	60. Maisie - Cambridge, 1968

_I'm still in a daze as Syd is walking me back to Roger's with his hand in mine. I love the way he holds my hand. He's so sweet and wonderful. We walk together, and giggle about what we see on the street, and he pulls me close with his arm around me._

_"I love to hold you. You're warm." _

_"It just feels so right when you hold me. It feels like I don't need anything else." _

_"I know that I don't think I need anything else." This is when he stops me in my tracks and stares deep into my eyes with his soulful and sensitive ones. I reach out and brush a green leaf out of his beautiful mess of inky curls, and his expression is desperate, pleading._

_"Please come home with me, Maisie. Please? I can take care of you. I can love you. Don't stay with someone who can't. I'm begging, Maisie. I want you close to me always." I'm so overcome with emotion I think I might cry or run away. But I know Syd would follow me if I did. I'd follow him too._

_"I don't think you mean that, though." I can see in his face that my words hurt his feelings. I think he does mean it. He wraps me in his arms and holds me close to his body, and then turns my face up so our eyes meet. _

_"I'm begging you, Maisie. Please won't you come home with me? Let me be the one who loves you. Don't waste your time on him." A pleasant chill of sparkling winter snow runs through my body and sends me into a beautiful dreamland where everything is covered in diamonds. I consider his sincere, pleading face. "Please come and be with me." _

_I realize now that we are here at Roger's, but the door seems to be blocked. Not that I was looking to escape. I don't want to let Syd go. Maybe leaving with him is the best choice. But the fact that the door's blocked is strange. I squeeze Syd's hand and lead him toward the porch, and I notice it's actually my things piled up in front of it. Roger must be throwing me out. _

_"I don't…" There's a shock I feel upon realizing it, especially while I'm still far away, that makes this all the harder. I'm nothing to him, and never have been. He's so mean. He's been nothing but mean to me, why do I want to stay? There's something in the way he always took charge of my body in bed that's making me want him. But something else, too. Something that's outside of my understanding. He's got these eyes that always make him look like he's guilty of something. It's sweet, in a way. _

_But now it's time to go. _

_"Well, I'm definitely taking you home now. I won't let you go back to your aunt. You're safe with me." _

_I fall into Syd's arms after I am hit by another tsunami of tears. I gave him my virginity. I let him have that when I could have given it to someone who appreciates me. Syd would have cherished it if I let him do it to me before anyone else. He would have treated me kindly and I would know it was always about more than what I could give him in bed. _

_"Yes, I'll come. I'll come home with you. You're so beautiful inside." We kiss, his hands exploring my hair, and my arms wrapped around his neck._

_"I won't ever hurt you like Roger did. Never ever. You're my precious one. I'll only ever be kind to you and show you my admiration every single day. You never have to worry with me, Maisie, because I adore the ground you walk on." _


	61. David - Sussex, England, 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another preview!

I suppose walking out on her after being so cold was the wrong thing to do. I shouldn't have spoken to her like that. This is why I don't like fighting, and never did. This is why I leave and go play my guitar instead. I left my favorite one in Maine, though. Interesting, that. 

Just a few moments, and I'll go back. Maybe I'll give it a half hour. That way both of us can cool off and I can think of what would actually be the best thing to say to her. What am I supposed to say, anyway? She's right about all of it. I've lied to her for so long, why would I continue to lie when she's caught me? 

I have been an unfaithful, unloving, deceitful husband, and even if I did not want to be with Maisie I'd still leave. I feel like I need to keep stressing that I do love my wife. I do. This isn't a black or white situation. I don't love either Maisie or my wife. I love them both, the way Maisie loves Syd and I both. 

I met her through a friend. She was a model. Of course, right? It was admittedly superficial at first. She was hot, I was lonely, and all that cliche rock star bullshit, the kind that leads a man to view a woman as an object. But I got to know her, and I did fall in love, if only briefly. For the first time I didn't think every day of Maisie. It felt so good to forget. I thought... finally. Finally I'm free. I don't have to carry the sadness anymore.

And it lasted for a good six months, maybe a year really, before it all came rushing back to me. There was no trigger. Rick asked me what it was that sent me back, but I can't name a single thing. All of a sudden the band-aid was ripped off, and my pain was exposed and raw, as if I were still in that moment right after Maisie walked out on me. 

I married her. God, I still wonder why I did that. I thought...I love this woman, we both want children, Maisie doesn't want me back...what do I have to lose? What I had to lose was my self respect, and the respect of a good and kind woman who I dragged into my problems. And soon, I'll lose the respect of my children, too, and that's the part that hurts the most. Fuck, I can't even begin to discuss that right now. 

And as the years went on, the pain only got worse. An occasional fleeting thought from back when my wife and I started dating over the years became an unstoppable force, a battering ram that beat me over the head every night with my memories.

I never called. I know she's still in pain over it. And I guess in some ways I'm jealous that Syd called and I didn't. But I wrote those letters, and I really did try to find a correct address, but it was a failure. None of them got through. There were more than three, but I threw the others out. Sometimes it just hurt too much. It killed me to look at a pile of letters I spent hours pouring all of my love and longing into just sitting there after being returned every single time, so I burned all but three of them. 

I suppose I need to tell her everything. All of it. The brutal truth. But I've got to do it in a way that isn't hurtful. How the hell am I going to do that? There's no way to make it sound less hurtful.

It shouldn't have to be this way. 

But in the end it's my fault it's this way. So I've got to own up to it and tell my wife everything


	62. Maisie - Freeport, Maine - December 2005

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maisie tells her friends some shocking news, and Gloria, her best friend, isn't the happiest about it.

You're not going to believe who just called me, girls." 

Everybody turns and looks straight at me. I know what they're thinking: David. Well if fucking only, right? Gloria had been holding a big photo album, most likely of us in Colorado a few years after I came back here to live with her. She loves that one. Whatever it is, she closes it shut and sets it immediately aside. Her eyes square on me: Gloria always knows when I'm acting on impulse. I don't know how, but she does.

"Are we going to guess?" Linda, a friend we'd met through the book club we all only went to one time, sits next to Gloria with her silver tabby contentedly sleeping on her lap. She gives the cat's precious little ears some scratches as she snarks in my general direction. It's okay. She does it out of love.

Alice, who we met at a spa, sits across from them on our loveseat. I wonder what kind of scene I'm disturbing. 

"You wouldn't even be able to guess, honestly."

"Just tell us," Alice urges. 

"Fine…" I throw my arms around, it kind of reminds me of something George Costanza might do. "Fucking Syd Barrett called me." There's a combination of slow blinks, gasps, and then Gloria just stands up. Uh oh. I should have expected that. Gloria, never having been a part of that group at the time, considers Syd a very sore point. She never met him, and all she ever knew is that he locked me in a closet. So when we talk about Syd, or if she hears about him (Gloria is not a Pink Floyd fan, by the way, and once told David this) sometimes she gets upset or defensive. I think what happened to me really scared her, too. 

"Did he, now?" Linda pulls Gloria back down to the couch, and the cat jumps off her lap with an exasperated huff. She's also got a look on her face like she knows I'm about to do something impulsive. 

"He did." 

"Uh huh. And….?" Gloria's already rubbing her temples. She's lost her patience with me already and I haven't even gotten to tell her I'm going to see him yet. 

"Well, we'll get there. May I sit down, or are you all going to gawk at me?" Alice moves a stack of magazines she had been looking at off of the other side of the loveseat, and she pats the cushion for me to sit down. 

"Go ahead. I'm excited to hear this." Linda and Alice are newer friends of ours. I'd say we've all been friends for about six or seven years now, and so they know comparatively very little. I don't really like to talk about what happened with Syd. Sure, they know, but they don't really know. They're very far removed from it and so the whole thing has sort of a mystic quality for them. That's okay because I would probably be the same way were the situations reversed. It does seem like quite a fascinating situation, doesn't it?

"Well, he called, and turns out that he's actually dying of cancer, or at least he suspects he's dying of cancer."

"Good," murmurs Gloria under her breath. As I said before, Syd is a sensitive subject. I'm pretty sure it was very hard for her knowing I was being hurt like that and she was unable to do anything about it. Gloria has always been super protective of me. She's not going to be happy about this. 

"Gloria, enough." Oh, this should be interesting. "He asked me to come visit him." The three of them again give me looks with a lot of eye blinking and open mouths. 

"And you told him to fuck off and hung up, right?" This time Linda gets an edge to her voice. The three of them stare at me almost like they're expecting me to affirm that yes, I hung up on my abusive ex boyfriend and blocked his number, and now won't have anything to do with him. 

"Actually...no. I told him I'd come." 

This time Gloria blinks rapidly, gets up out of her seat, walks toward me and snacks my head with the photo album. She doesn't smack me like she's joking, either. She smacks my head with that heavy black book like she really means it.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Maisie? You're going to see him? Are you out of your mind? Are you off your meds? What's wrong with you??" I shrug, and I know my face is telling her that unfortunately I am not kidding her. 

"Wait a minute, is this the guy who locked you in the closet?" 

"Yeah, that's him."

"The rock star who went nuts." I nod at Alice and shrug my shoulders.

"What's wrong with you???" Gloria hits me with the book again. I've got a feeling she is going to try to keep doing this until she knocks me out.

"Gloria, come on. Stop hitting me. Let me explain."

"You're going to have to give me a pretty damn good explanation about why you plan on going to stay with your fucking stalker." 

"Gloria, I'm done being angry. I'm tired of carrying the weight around. It's been nearly 40 years, and he sounds like he has probably recovered since I saw him last. At one point he offered to never call me again. That's progress, right?"

"And you couldn't just say, 'okay, goodbye'? Come on, May. What the fuck? Why can't you let that asshole just go off and die alone like the miserable nutjob he is?" This time I stand up. That's a really gross way to talk about someone suffering from a mental illness, and someone I once loved. She stands up too, and I take a step toward her. 

"You don't talk about anybody who is ill like that. And I know that Syd hurt me. You don't have to remind me of what happened with the closet. I fucking remember, alright? I was actually there, Gloria. I'm not fucking 19 anymore. I'm 58 years old, and I'm entitled to make a decision to forgive somebody that just couldn't fucking help it." Gloria knows when to back off at this point. She steps back, puts up her hands, and sits back down. I retreat, also, and sit back down on the loveseat next to Alice. For a second I look around our gorgeous modern log cabin living room with the loft and the low lighting, and the fireplace and the feeling of home. It's not long now I'll be giving it up for a little while.


	63. Roger - Cambridge, 1968 - Roger's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything becomes clear to Roger, and he realizes exactly what he's done to himself.

_I can hear Syd and Maisie collecting her things outside: their chatter as they drag her belongings away and place them on the sidewalk, and I can hear her sit down right on the other side. I'm sitting directly on the other side of my front door, and I can hear Maisie crying. Sobbing. Those deep, guttural, tragic sobs. She's telling him how she gave me her virginity, how I never cared about her, how she was nothing to me. I just used her. She thought she could have loved me. _

_Oh, Maisie, if only you knew._

_If only you knew how much I look back now at that night I took your virginity and regret not taking it more seriously, or not taking my time with you, not making you feel special or beautiful or cherished the way I should have. I didn't know I'd fall so hard for you. I should have worried less about cumming and more about making sure you felt safe and comfortable enough._

_If only you were nothing to me. I would hurt less if you were nothing to me, but you're anything but nothing. I thought you were nothing...you're not. And I'm sorry I never told you. By the time I knew it was too late. _

_I did just use you...at first. But somehow, some way, at some point I didn't want to anymore. I just didn't realize it was what it was. _

_That hurts the worst, that you thought you could have loved me. No women ever want to love me. I've been hit more times than I can count in the past few years alone. I never put it out there that I want love. I never wanted to be loved. But if only you'd love me maybe this fucking awful feeling of being dragged down would go away. Maybe we could make each other happy. To be loved by you...what a nice thing that would be. _

_And Syd is telling Maisie she deserves so much better than me. He can love her. I can't. He'll never let her feel alone, he'll never hurt her like I did._

_You're right, I hope. And I agree. Maisie's too good for me, Syd, but she's too good for you, too, you fucking burnout._

_Syd probably has her wrapped in his arms, and he's probably kissing her salty tears away as they trail down her striking and mysterious face, and stroking her wild chestnut hair. He's probably doing all these things that I wish I could have done. _

_That sound kills me. The sound of that girl crying is enough to send me into a tailspin of self hatred. Any man would recoil from that sound. For God's sake I'm doing you a favor. I don't think you should go off with Syd, but you don't want me, anyway. You're better off. Even though I want to be with you so bad, so bad I can feel a lump in my throat that could end up becoming an unwanted cry, so bad it paralyzed me to lie next to you, I can't change for you. I want to change for you...if any girl were worth changing for it's you, but I can't. _

_She's much too good for you, anyway, you stupid bloody prick. You got away with using and abusing these young girls for too long, it's about time you got hurt yourself. It serves you right, you know. Everything you're feeling right now, you deserve every second of it. _

_Better off Maisie may be, but I'm certainly not. I really like that girl, but I'm just not right for her. I can't give her what she needs; I'm too fucked up to have a real relationship no matter how much I want one with her. Why couldn't I have shown her sooner that I cared? If I weren't so fucked I could have realized sooner that my feelings for Maisie were what they are, and instead of shutting her out, I could have been kind to her. I could have let myself be in love, the way I always wanted to be before I got famous and jaded._

_I really feel as if I should say something to her about Syd, but she doesn't want to hear from me. Maisie would be better off just staying away from both of us. I'll do my best to stay away from her as much as I think it's going to hurt me to do so. _

_Even now knowing she's out there I get a chill down my back. I'd really like to be near her all the time. I guess I can do that without being in a relationship with her if I really wanted to...and probably without being noticed. Only if I can do it without being noticed. I know I just said I'd stay away, but I don't really believe that, do you?_

_This is awful though. It feels so awful. It makes me sick._

_I wish I figured it out sooner, but I didn't, and now I'm too ashamed and embarrassed to try and fix things, and Syd made off with her anyway. If I had only … _

_If I had only let myself have something nice for once. We could have been happy. I wish I knew how to give her everything she deserves._

_Maisie is fantastic. _

_I remember that time I woke up next to her and my heart dropped into my stomach as I looked at her face: peacefully away in the land of dreams, hopefully dreaming of something carefree and lovely. I looked at her: vulnerable, weak, and breakable...giving me the honor of trust enough to sleep with her back to me...and at first I felt something really absurd and new, like a jolt of electricity coursing through my body, and then I felt this dizziness, and the racing of my heart, a heavy racing beat I never felt before then. My face burned. I started to sweat. My stomach felt tight and twisted. I was simply struck by lightning, and I don't know what it was, or why, or at least I didn't before now._

_Then I felt the scorpion's sting of disgust. I hated her because that jolt shook me to my core. It took me almost completely off my foundation and swept me away into a sea of very awkward and undesirable feelings. Feelings I hadn't really felt before. I hadn't had a proper girlfriend that I really liked before Maisie, and I was lying to her about being my girlfriend, but was I?_

_I'm serious, by the way. I've never really had a girlfriend before her. I know I told you that I lie to girls all the time, and I do, but none of them really felt like my girlfriend, and she did. I never called them my "girlfriend" to my friends, or in my own head, but you know I did with her. You've heard me say it. _

_None of them lived with me, either. Hell, some of them never even got to spend the night. I think I kept her around for longer than any other one…about six months we were together. The last two lasted three weeks and two months, respectively. And my god, I never let any of them cook for me or anything like that. None of the others tolerated being shut out of my studio without complaining, and I never felt bad for doing it to them. _

_Nothing like that ever happened before. _

_I think Maisie is my first love. Oh, what the fuck. What have I done? What have I done to her, and less importantly to myself? This is going to be fucking painful. I don't want to watch her love and Syd love each other. It is bollocks, but I didn't know. I didn't know I loved her. I couldn't define the dizzy feeling. I didn't know what that weird roller coaster sensation was. It made no sense to me, I've never fallen in love with a girl before. Not really. I've had a lot of crushes on girls, but they never liked me, and the women I've had since I got into Pink Floyd were the ones I lied to and thought nothing of. They weren't my girlfriends. Maisie was my first girlfriend. My first love. And I drove her into another man's arms because I carried on as I normally would instead of listening to myself. Fuck. What am I supposed to do? I can't stop it now...it is what it is. _

_What is it though? What did I fall in love with? It's not like I have a list of things that are possible reasons, or anything. But I want to know for sure. I can't just fall in love with her. I was never supposed to feel anything. I wasn't supposed to feel this weight in my guts as I think of Maisie being held tenderly by Syd, by my best friend, happy and peaceful and grateful to be away from me and in the arms of someone who knows how to give and receive love. And as well she should be. I'm no good. I'm all mixed up, absolutely bonkers. It was never supposed to be this way. How could I ever fall in love? _

_But I love her. I know it. My heart's broken, and I've broken it myself. This is all my fault. But she broke my heart, too. She's with my best friend. That breaks my heart, and it pains my body. This strange sob caught in my throat, this empty but heavy iron knot in my entire fucking stomach...my guts are twisted. My insides ache, I'm nauseous. It's a pit of despair, this heartbreak. I can't ever let this happen again. This is the worst kind of pain. _

_I'll be damned if I ever tell anyone that I feel this way though, especially her. I'll be damned if I say another two words to her. It would just hurt us both too much._


	64. Maisie - Cambridge, 1968 - Syd's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Syd and Maisie discover their love...

_We've just arrived at Syd's house. It's small, and sparsely decorated, but what decorations he has are very avant garde. A lot of paintings that I am pretty sure were actually done by him. We drop my things on the living room floor, and he leads me towards his kitchen and pulls out a wooden chair for me, but stops me from sitting down._

_"I'll make you tea. You've had a very hard time. Do you want to change?" He pats my head and leans down to kiss it with a smile and a kind of soft giggle. He's so … he's so innocent and caring and lovely. Syd is so lovely, inside and out. His soul is pure. He's my Peter Pan._

_"Yes, I'd like to put some pajamas on. I just want to go to bed after we finish our tea. Thank you so much, Syd." I look up into his beautiful innocent face with his wild eyes. He smiles at me and pokes my nose._

_"I'd do anything for you, my Maisie." I pull him in for a kiss...my sweet love. My real first love; I know it. I look at him and I already know I love him more than I can tell you. Even though it's only our first night I just know. It's instinct. He's my first love, and I'm so happy. _

_Finally I'm away from my stupid mistake, that fucking migraine. He's literally the human embodiment of a migraine; I absolutely hate, no I fucking LOATHE him. I cannot stand him or anything about him; I think he's a waste of space and that he should do every woman in the world a favor and just stay the fuck away from them. He was such a fucking prick to me. I was ready to love him, and then he drove me away. And then he comes back and tries to fix things after the damage has already been done? Trying to be all fucking vulnerable with me. Who in the fuck does that to someone after pushing their face into the floor and fucking them in the ass? I know I didn't tell him no, but it was still scary._

_No one will ever love him. He is a truly bad and toxic person, I've seen him treat other people like shit too. Take advantage of people, snap at people, insulting his fans behind their backs. He's just a terrible person and I'm very angry that he's even still going to be in my orbit in any capacity. I have to deal with him being around so I might as well just learn to ignore him and simply act like he isn't there. Don't look at him, don't talk to him, don't acknowledge him beyond a greeting, ever. He's too sick to talk to other people. What a fucking awful bastard he is. I wish someone would push him down the stairs and break his neck. God damn it, I'll never forgive that piece of shit and if I could get away from him forever and never even have to think about him I would be absolutely overjoyed. Syd leads me by the hand to his bedroom. His bed is a mattress on the floor with a nice white down comforter. I can't wait to sleep on this bed._

_"I can sleep on the sofa if you'd like. You can stay here in my bed. I want you to be comfortable, and I don't mind the sofa." _

_"No, Syd...sleep in here with me." A smile lights his face like a sweet smelling candle. He reaches out and hugs me, but it's almost like the way a child would hug his mother. _

_"Can I help you get dressed? It's not sexual for me... I just... really like you, and I want to serve you like I'd serve a goddess." I know I'm blushing because I can feel my face getting hot, and I can't maintain eye contact with him. No one has ever asked me that before. _

_"I guess, if you want."_

_"I think it will make you feel better if I treat you like my goddess tonight." I get on my toes and press my face into his. We smile at one another and rub our noses together._

_"It probably would."_

_"No sex though Maisie, please? I don't want to dirty it at all, I just want to treat you nicely for awhile because you haven't been treated nicely, and I like you so much, so please let me pamper you." No sex? I'm not used to that. That's not something Asshole would ever say to me._

_"Okay. I've just… never had that before."_

_"All the more reason then, right?"_

_"Okay. Okay, you can do that." Syd kisses me on the forehead and pushes his hair out of his face._

_"I think you should have a bath. We were rolling around on the ground like animals. I'll take one myself tomorrow morning. It wouldn't be as nice if I got in, too. After your bath we can get you dressed, and I'll make you tea, and then we can do whatever you want. I'll rub your shoulders if you like, or whatever… whatever you want me to do. I'm your servant, my princess." _

_"Yes, I'd like all of that. You're so wonderful."_

_"You're wonderful. I'm just in awe of you, my special girl." He motions for me to sit on the bed as he runs to start filling his bathtub with water for me. How did I get so lucky to be able to find a beautiful boy like Syd? I really can't believe we're together. He's magic. I never want him to go away. _


	65. David's Wife - Sussex, 2007 - Their House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another preview!

"Let me hear this explanation you have. I'm serious. Whatever you have to say, just say it. Don't get comfortable with me, though, I would still give you a black eye if you were here in front of me."

There's a pause on the line, then a deep inhale, and a resigned exhale.

"David and I dated for 16 years, and I only left him because of the touring. We had no real big problems in our relationship. I regret ever leaving him."

"Well, isn't that so sad, Mrs ...?"

"That's…I'm not going to..."

"Wait just a minute here. You're not going to tell me your last name? That's quite strange, isn't it?"

"It's none of your business."

"You made your entire life my business when you decided to sleep with my husband in a hotel and got a house with him, bitch. Every last detail about you is absolutely my fucking business, you disgusting sex sorceress, or whatever you are."

"Barrett." Oh, that makes this so much worse. And to think I pitied this vicious cunt for a minute. 

"Are you shitting me? You were married to the poor sick man whose funeral we were attending? And you used that funeral as an opportunity to let my husband pick you up?"

"I know how it looks...that's not...Syd asked me to." 

"That is quite possibly the saddest, most pathetic and cruelest excuse I have ever heard in my entire life. You and David deserve one another. You're both sneaky, dishonest cheaters. What kind of a woman are you, anyway?"

"How were you stupid enough to think your husband was emotionally faithful?"

"He was a damn good liar, but you're right. I was stupid. Looking back, I see it. I see everything. I just didn't even know you existed in the capacity you did because David lied to me about it. Don't you call me stupid, though, you cunt. And don't take the focus off of the shitty thing you've done. It's not just you, and in fact I'm less angry at you than David, but you're still disgusting. You fucking nasty slag."

"Call me whatever names you want. I know I've earned it." 

This is just so fucking convenient for Black Magic Woman, it is, and her poor fragile ego. Poor thing, probably went unloved by her parents. She's trying to leave me with no opening. If she doesn't fight back I don't have to go at her any harder. That's the plan, isn't it, witch? I'm just going to go harder anyway because I don't care whether or not it breaks you….I just need to fucking tear you limb from limb.

"That answer is unfair. You have no right to act like that, like you just get to be so fucking blase about this...so fucking blase about breaking up my fucking family you sick cow! Who in the bloody hell do you think you are, anyway? You have no idea how it feels to even have a family that can be broken up! You'll be lucky to end up with anyone at the end of your life, you twisted, vicious slut! And take him, cunt. I'm sending him packing right to your little love nest and you can blame yourselves when his children won't speak to either one of you. I hope you're fucking happy shacking up with someone else's trash, you nasty whore. Have fun with my sloppy seconds! Fuck off!" 

I push the button to end the call and slam David's phone into the wall, cracking it into pieces. Serves him the fuck right. 

And there he is: standing behind me, his pale eyes wide with terror, full lips parted. 

"That's right, asshole, I called your girlfriend on the phone and I took a fucking chunk out of her, and you're next." He looks down at his phone in pieces on the floor. 

"Look ... let's…" He tries to reach for me, but I smack his hand out of the way. A lot of nerve this asshole has trying to touch me.

"Don't come any fucking closer to me. I don't want you anywhere near me, David. You've been pulling the wool over my eyes for years. I never would have thought you were the type to cheat on your wife."

"That's not the right way to phrase it, that makes it seem so cheap." I can feel rage bubbling in my fucking belly. He's absolutely fucking clueless!!!!! Who says that? I shove him against the wall, bigger than me though he is, and he hits it with a thud.

"That's what you're fucking worried about, my phrasing???" 

He still says nothing. I can't believe this. Betray me like this, and you can't even think of anything to say for yourself??? Not one thing? It doesn't matter enough to you for you to even try to think of something?

"It's just that you make it sound like I was picking up groupies after shows, or something."

"Are you kidding me? I'd much rather you be doing that if you were going to cheat on me. I could possibly put that behind me, but this? This is far worse than that would ever feel. You're living a double life. You're out there in Maine with her living a different life seethan you do when you're here with us, and it's not fair to us. You aren't just fucking groupies, you're in love with someone else. Someone you fucking lied to me about, you bastard."

"I'm sorry." 

"That's not fucking enough. I want you out. I don't care where you go. I was prepared to maybe give you a second chance, but this seems all so easy for you, and I deserve to be with a man who wouldn't find the idea of ending our marriage easy. So go back to Maine, and I'll ship you all your things. And we'll divorce, and your kids and their kids will see you when they see you. Go 'home', David. I saw all those texts. Go back to your real home and fuck off."


	66. Maisie - Portland, Maine December 2005 - Portland International Airport

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maisie and her best friend Gloria wait at the airport, and Maisie makes a promise to both Gloria and herself. Can she keep it?

Portland International Airport is pleasant enough. The lobby looks like a hotel, a little bit. Lots of green.

I turn to Gloria, and she looks back at me, and I can see the worry in her eyes. I know she's convinced Syd is going to hurt me. I'm afraid, too. But I'll be staying in the guest bedroom, so it will be fine. I'll hopefully be able to lock the door if I have to. 

"If he lays a finger on you in any way...in any way...you come home."

"Let's compromise and say any unwanted touches aren't okay." 

"Don't even go there. I don't understand you. This guy fucking tortured you and you're running back to him because you have a gut feeling. Don't get dragged into it. You need to love yourself more. There's still time to change your mind. We'll go back home and smoke and you can go out and find a hot younger woman to play with. Or a hot younger dude."

"Oh, stop. Nothing like that is going to happen. And you know I am done with younger people."

"I've heard that a few times only for you be in bed with a guy hours later. You just love you some dick."

"I don't love dick. I love men. Dick is gross. You put up with dick, but the rest of the man is the best part."

"I dunno. I like a good fat cock."

"I love a nice pair of muscular arms and a tight ass and beautiful blue eyes."

"You're so predictable, ha. Sorry Mays, but your man's ass ain't so tight anymore." I shove her a little for that comment. David's still sexy. If I ever see him again it's over for me. I'm done for. But Syd? It'll be easy to avoid having sex with him, I think. God damn, I'm sorry. That was such a bitchy thing to say.

"I don't think I'll want to have sex with Syd. I won't. I'm only going there as his friend."

"I know you, slut." I check my watch, and I've gotta go through security. 

"I gotta get out of here. I'll call you when I get there."

"You damn well better." We hug and she pushes me out of the way. "Just go before I kidnap you back to your own home." 

I've gone through security, and I'm waiting to board the plane, tapping my fingers on my carry on bag, sitting down with my head in my hands on my knees. I'm shivering...what's he going to be like? Will he look like he did when he showed up at Abbey Road?

That day…

I didn't recognize him, and I didn't have a chance before David dragged me into another room with Amelia and shut us in there with no word, but then I heard his voice. I heard Syd screaming for me. His whining, wailing, animal screams. Like a cougar in the night. I knew as soon as I heard those screams that Syd was there. 

_"Bring Maisie back, you fucking arsehole, David! You took her away from me once before, you're fucking terrible, you are. You stole her away, you wicked bastard. Bring her out here! I just want to see her, please! Please let me see her face. Just for one second, PLEASE. Please, Maisie come out, please... I've never stopped loving you, not for one half a second...please come out...I won't hurt you, I promise, just please come out."_

And then Roger and David dragged Syd off, and David left him with Roger alone for awhile because Roger and I were the only ones who could calm him. Eventually the screams stopped, and they played music for him, but I wouldn't come out until he left. He asked for me one more time before he left, begged them one more time to please let him see me. They just kept promising it wasn't me, but he couldn't be fooled. I know Syd, he would know me in a huge crowd of people. He would know me if I changed as much as he did. 

The way he was howling... moaning like an undead creature...the only time I had ever been so scared of another human being was that day when he locked me up. His eyes were black... soulless...dead. They were nothing. There was nothing left. I never saw an ounce of anger or fury, just desperation. Tears. Paranoia. Hysteria. Ranting and raving about how he couldn't let anyone take me away. 

He kissed me hard and deep, apologized and threw me into the closet with the cleaning supplies. I fell backwards and he used that opportunity to lock the door. I banged on the door, and screamed, and begged...it made no difference. He wouldn't let me out. He apologized and begged forgiveness the entire time I was in there, but he refused to relent.

I remember him climbing into the closet with me and holding me tight, the way he used to before he broke into pieces, and stroking my hair. He'd tell me he'd let me out as soon as the thing that was trying to take me away was gone. No one is coming, I thought. No one is coming to take me away. I'm stuck in this closet and at his mercy. He may never let me out. 

At least he never raped me. He only held me, and kissed me, told me he loved me, but I was so terrified I couldn't respond. I was broken, hopeless, scared and sad until David came, and when I saw David almost pull that door off its hinges I felt so much relief. I saw Syd crumpled on the floor, sobbing. And David scooped me up and threw me over his shoulder, and carried me off while Syd screamed for me. 

_"Maisie, don't let him take you away from me...you're my only love!" As David was about to walk out the door he screamed "I will always love you. Always. I won't ever forget, and I'll wait forever for you…"_

Had he, actually?

I wanted for a minute to go back to my sweet boy, to hold him and tell him I'd never make him wait for me, that I was right there always. But David refused to bring me back, and I couldn't fight him off. He put me me into the passenger seat in his car and drove us away. And he made sure I never saw Syd. I wanted to. I wanted to go out there the first few times he waited like a patient dog outside our apartment. Then it got scary because he would literally stay for hours upon hours, sitting there, looking for any sign of me. He always looked so hopeful, but then as time went on he became resigned to the fact that I was never coming out for him, and he would cry, but he'd never stop waiting. It wasn't until Rosemary came and got him and he was dragged off to a facility that Syd stopped coming. David always snuck me out the back of our place, and luckily we were able to walk to most places we were going to, so it was never a huge problem in retrospect, but I was very scared at the time. 

All these memories keep coming back to me while I'm boarding. Falling in love with Syd. Tripping with him and making love in the dewy grass. Being worshipped by him, taking care of him as he functioned less and less, cleaning up a never ending mess, and then being locked up by him. 

What is he going to look like? What's he going to act like? Sound like? How will things be with us? I'm not letting this go anywhere. Things can't be allowed to go there. Not with this guy. You're not gonna fall in love with and or fuck him you nasty slut. It's absolutely off the table, you will not do it for any reason at any time whatsoever, and chances are you will not even in any way want to. He probably doesn't look all that great...did I actually really just think that? Gross. I'm not like that at all, this is probably a defense mechanism.

That's all the therapy talking. There's just a way you learn to talk to yourself and others when you've been in therapy for 30 years. Yeah, 30 years. I know, what a long time, right? I mean, I have accepted that I was fucked up long before Syd got to me, and that was probably what attracted me to him in the first place. 

So I would've needed it anyway. Distant parents. You know how it is. I was an only child with a father who was away on business or in his office all the time, and a mother who was either conked out on pills in bed with her clothes from the night before still on with the radio droning soap operas in the background or out at parties I wasn't allowed to go to. James and Marceline Wells, everyone. Exemplary parents. Luckily I had a nanny... imagine that. A black lady, of course. Quite a bit cringe inducing now, looking back on it. Evaline was her name. She was the only one who ever gave me real love. Now you can see why I am just so bad with men, too!

But yeah, 30 years of therapy, so many different times trying to find the right medication, monitoring all these side effects, oh my god I could go on and on. And the triggering event was being tormented by the man I am currently sitting on an airplane waiting to go and stay with (and we never set a date for me to leave, I've kept my visa active). Guess you never learn, Maisie.

I stare at the last view of beautiful Portland as I lose myself in remembering Syd as he was. I don't know what I'm gonna do, or how I'm gonna deal with this, but I'll figure it out. I just have to draw clear boundaries from the beginning.


	67. Syd - Cambridge, April 2006 - Syd and Maisie's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!

I watch as Maisie spreads her legs wider for me and beckons for me to join her on our bed. That's not the bed I had when she came, so it's really and truly ours. It has a white down comforter like our bed did when we were kids...I asked her to please buy one that looked the same, and she was so happy to oblige. She spoils me sometimes.

"I'm very nervous...I thought I could do this, but I don't know, Maisie...what if I'm bad at it?" She pulls me on top of her, and I savor the feeling of her body beneath mine, her velvet skin against my skin. If I could only make myself work...if I could get hard and we could be one…

"You won't be bad at it. I know you. I remember that you know what you're doing. All you need to do is remember." 

Remember.

So I do.

Memories of the taste of her...the way she felt inside...the feeling of her clitoris engorged with desire as I circled my tongue gently around it. The way she writhed and moaned, and screamed... everything I did for her sent her into spasms of ecstasy. So I know I can do it again...I have to have it up here somewhere.

And as I look down at her beautiful body I remember exactly everything she liked me to do with my mouth, and how.

"I remember…"

"What do you want to do to me, Syd?"

"Everything, Wendy Bird, but I want to lick you first." 

"You know what I like."

"I remember every place you like to be touched, and every way you like me to do it." I look back up at her warm, reassuring eyes, and she strokes my cheek as I nervously find my way in between her legs. I can feel the heat of her sex radiating onto my face, it's as amazing as it was when we were young, maybe more. Why do men my age go after women that age when the women our own age are so much better? I think they just don't like strong women. But for a man like me, who wouldn't have it any other way, a younger woman would be frustrating. I love that Maisie takes care of me and I trust that she knows what's best. 

"Spread my lips, Syd. Do you see them?" I look at her beautiful rose garden in front of me, and it's full grown the way it always was...I see it there, her labia. Open that, and her clitoris is right there. This isn't so difficult. It's still like a beautiful little bud. I stare up into the eyes of my sweet love as I ready myself to taste her again for the first time. She's so beautiful up there, and I'm where I should be: between my Queen's strong thighs, savoring her remarkable tas te and feeling eternally grateful for her screams of rapture.

I touch my tongue against it only enough for her to feel it for a second, but pull back, waiting for her to let me know if I have the right spot. No, I know I do, though. I remember everything about Maisie's body now that I'm looking at it. I remember every single curve, every spot that when I'd touch it she'd go wild. There's that spot on her inner thigh there that when I touch or kiss it she really likes it...and her hipbones, she loves when I touch those...so I do. I feel her beautiful hip bones, sitting directly beneath her soft belly, with my fingertips, cherishing every inch of their delicate prominence. And I gently kiss her inner thighs, I remember she loves the way my lips feel on them. 

Maisie lets out a sigh of contentment as I circle her pretty bud with my tongue the way I used to. She makes sure to show me every bit of pleasure she feels, she must know how good it makes me feel to blow her mind. I love to watch her squirm when I taste her like this. Her moans are so breathy and deep: they're real and intense and I wouldn't be surprised if my poor neighbors can hear her, but I don't care because it just means my goddess is satisfied, that I've served her well. She's squirming, jerking, almost convulsing when I lick her the way I did then. 

"Hold onto my thighs, baby." She asks, and she shall receive: I grab hold of her muscular thighs and she pushes my face closer to her magnificent flower, and oh, my god, I love the way she tastes. I've been waiting so many years for her..so many lonely years...this is beyond my wildest dreams, to have my face between her thighs with her sweet nectar in my mouth. I can feel her mound grinding against my face, she's going wild for me...this is so incredible…

I feel it. I'm erect, I'm so hard for her that it hurts me. 

"Maisie, I'm so hard for you…will you please let me be inside of you?" She pulls me on top of her in a fit of beautiful passion like she's insatiable, like she needs me inside her. I'm so nervous, but this feels so good. I haven't felt this way in so long. I forgot how amazing this feels, to be erect for the woman I love, to be ready to ravage her at her request. As she spreads her legs for me I move to thrust inside her, to experience her completely, to be given the honor of pleasing her. 

I push myself slowly inside her…oh my god she's so tight, and so warm and wet. She just feels so good...I thrust into her once, then twice, and she's pulling me closer to her and moaning so much for me. Her fingertips and her nails are digging into the skin of my back, and it's amazing. I feel like everything I've ever prayed for is coming true. I'm fully enraptured by the feeling of insanity that comes with the honor of being able to have this love with her, my beloved wife. It's working. It's actually working. I'm kissing her so deeply I can smell the pleasurable desperation coming off of me. My Queen feels perfect inside. I need with every fiber of my being to ravage her, and so I kiss her with mad, wild intention...I nibble her neck, and I am breathing so fast, she's so, so tight I won't be able to do this for long before I burst. I'm so happy to be so deep inside of her, to be lucky enough to have my body be a part of hers. I don't have words to explain the depth of my desire, and I barely even understand this desperate need. I've only ever wanted my Maisie. That's all I've ever wanted: her love. I've been waiting, and waiting, so many times without any hope that she'd come home, but she's here, and she wants me enough to let me do this for us.

And on the next thrust... it's gone. It has just poof! gone away. Why?? Why did this have to happen to us?

This isn't fair. This is so not fucking fair. I was almost there. We almost got to really make love to completion. I can't even fucking imagine what it would have felt like to release inside of Maisie, to feel my cock pumping out my orgasm inside my Queen, and for her to allow me to give it to her because it is the very least I could do. I was so close to knowing how perfect that would have felt. I freeze. I don't know what to tell her. What if she's upset with me? I'm so ashamed. I can't be a man the way my Maisie needs me to be. Why does she want me this way? I'm defective. I'm defective and I am in no way beautiful enough to be with her like this. She deserves a beautiful man like David, or Roger (though that is unlikely to ever happen, and would only happen if Roger schemed to make it happen). My body is all wrong. No one should lose an erection when they're with her. No man would unless he's broken like me. I bet David would never disappoint her like this. 

I sit up and bury my head in my hands. I'm so embarrassed. It wasn't supposed to happen like that. She was so wet and excited. I could be inside her right this very moment and about to release for her. She wanted me so bad, I could tell. I know she did. After all these years Maisie's with me, and she's married me, and she's allowing me to please her body and her soul, and I can't even stay hard for her. I am not any kind of man. 

"I'm so sorry, my Maisie. I'm so sorry. I didn't want to let you down." 

Please, no tears. Don't do this. The last thing I want to do now is cry. I already feel like not enough of a man. Damn it, I can't stop them. Not just tears, sobs. No. Not now. Not on our wedding night. Please, not on our wedding night. Anything but this.

Maisie's arms are around me before I even realize it. She's squeezing me so close to her that I can hear her beating heart in her chest, beating for me the way mine beats for her. I can breathe now, feeling her so close to me. Her arms are so tight around my body, I don't even remember why it seemed like such a big deal…it's just sex. I love her so much more than that, anyway.

"You were so good, Syd, my baby. You were so good to me. It's like you never stopped doing it." She kisses my face over and over again until I pull her toward me and I press my lips against Maisie's full, pink ones. I try to let her feel my love and my devotion with every soft but fiery kiss I give her. I wanted her to feel me, I wanted her to know that she's all I ever needed. 

"I'd do anything for you. So if you ever want me to do that for you again, I will, and gladly. Just ask." 

"I don't need it, baby. I just want you. I just want to be with the beautiful man that I love." I let her pull me closer again, and enjoy the feeling of being so close to her perfect body and her loving warmth. I want to do something more for her, but I don't know what. Anything that will prove to her that I think she is the most magnificent being in the world. 

"I love you more than anything in the entire world. If you're sure you don't need it I won't feel bad. I just want to do everything I can to please you and make you happy." She kisses my eyelids, and pulls me down so that we can lay together.


	68. David- Sussex, 2007 - Their House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preview!
> 
> Remember, expect this storyline to pick up in Volume 2 or 3

Well, I've just had the door slammed in my face, and my phone is in there in pieces, so that's just great. Can't blame her, though, can I? 

I don't know what to tell you. I don't know what to tell her, or my kids, or anyone. This is absolute shit. Was this even worth it? Was it worth fucking up my entire family? Is she worth all this? What the hell is wrong with me? 

Maisie is worth losing the marriage. Is she worth losing the kids? I mean, will they really never forgive me? There's no way that they will never forgive me for this. Surely they'll understand. No, they probably won't. Is it really worth this? Should I just end it? Part of me feels like I should just go back in there and do the right thing and tell her I'll call and break it off with Maisie. And then I'll call her, and I'll tell her I'm sorry, but I can't see her anymore.

And then I'll be miserable. 

And then the cycle of lying to my wife continues, and it's year after year of keeping her from meeting someone better, and year after year of resenting her more and more. Neither of us deserve this. She doesn't deserve to live without love, but I don't deserve that, either. I don't think she wants to be married to me anymore, either. 

I'm just bothered by how unbothered I am by it. I shouldn't feel so resigned to the reality of divorce. I have no reason for this to be so easy. It's fucked up. This is really disturbing to me. 

I've sunk down against the wall in front of the bedroom door. God, I hate this. 

She is worth it, I know that, and I've known that since I walked over to her at that service. If I had had any doubt I wouldn't have gone to that hotel room, and I certainly wouldn't have bought that big beautiful blue house in the woods and right on a cliff next to the ocean. You have no idea how much we love that house. Yeah, I think that what we have is worth it. I wish it weren't, though. That would make this a whole lot easier.

The door opens, and she's glaring down at me, her eyes swollen from crying. I stand up, and I reach out to try and give her a hug, but she slaps my hand away. Point taken. She motions for me to come in and sit on the bed.

"If you leave in enough time for it to look like I'm not just tossing you out we'll make something up, and we won't tell the children you've been sleeping around, but you can't let them meet May for a few months. But you can't stay too long, and you can't sleep here. Move all your stuff into the guest room and start packing." 

"Why would you do that? Just lie to them?"

"Because this hurts me. Not them. It's not their business." 

"You're being much too kind." She sits down next to me, puts her hand on my shoulder, and lets out a long, deep sigh.

"You're an amazing father, and you have never done those children wrong. Telling them is pointless. What's it going to do? It will just cause more problems. But I'm letting you off entirely too easy, David, and I hope that you're very aware of that." 

"I am. Why?"

"I don't know. Don't make me overthink it. I might change my mind. I don't really want to talk to you anymore. I've got a headache, and I want to lie down. Here's your phone. I suggest going to the store and getting it replaced." She hands me my busted up phone and motions toward the door. I get up and walk to the guest room.

That was too easy. I got off too easy.


	69. Maisie - Cambridge, 1968 - Syd's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maisie and Syd spend their first night together

_"Come in the bathroom, please, Silly Whim?" I hear Syd's lovely and soothing voice calling out to me from the bathroom. I open the door and he's there with a bathtub full of bubbles ready for me, and steam is rising from the top of the water like smoke from an incense stick. My eyes fill with tears when I see it, and I see him sitting on the side of the tub. _

_"This is so nice...you didn't have to…" Syd stands up and pinches my cheek and then giggles in the way that I've always loved.._

_"I know I don't have to, silly, I want to." I try to force a smile, but realize I don't have to force it. I'm so used to having to force smiles now that having one come so naturally feels new and exciting. Now that I'm here with the one I know I really love I don't feel so sad anymore. Roger can just go ahead and disappear for all I care. Nothing he ever did or said matters nearly as much as what I see when I look into Syd's eyes: love. I look in his soft, sweet brown eyes and I see the love that we have for each other. We kiss, and I can feel his lips twisting into a smile as they meet mine._

_"Should I just get in?"_

_"Let me undress you first. You can't wear clothes in the bathtub, can you?" I can feel my face and body get hot as he pulls my shirt over my head and reveals my pale white chest, but he doesn't pay any attention to my breasts, not more than anything else. This is so new. Roger would never do this. Who cares? He's old news. Then Syd unbuttons and unzips my jeans and peels them off my body. Even though I just had them off only hours ago, it feels like I've been waiting forever to get out of them. They're so stiff and confining, but without them I feel beautiful and free, especially with my love by my side. _

_"You're so lovely, Syd." He kisses me as he pulls my panties off of my hips, and I feel so vulnerable._

_"Not lovely like you, my Wendy Bird." When I'm finally fully nude he picks me up somehow and places me in the bathtub, and even though he has some trouble lifting me, it doesn't hurt when he puts me in. I look around his bathroom, sparsely decorated like the rest of the place, but he's gone wild with a paintbrush all over the walls with brush strokes of every color of the rainbow haphazardly strewn everywhere with no forethought for a color scheme . It looks like the rainbow threw up all over his bathroom...it's so pretty. Who doesn't love the rainbow?_

_Syd sits on the side of the bathtub again and strokes my cheek as we smile at one another. His eyes... so innocent, but so sort of off somewhere else. He's here with me, but he's also out in space somewhere. My goodness, there's something strange about that, but it's so beautiful too. _

_"Why are you so kind?" He raises my hand to his lips and kisses it with the light of love in his eyes._

_"Do you think you don't deserve it?" _

_"I don't think that's it…"_

_"I think it's the least that you deserve, Princess." He leans over and kisses me on the forehead, but then lightly pushes me back against the reclining slope of the bathtub so I can lie down. I close my eyes as I sink into the relaxing hot water and let Syd wash my face with a white washcloth. Some of the water runs onto my hair, so he sits me up and squeezes the washcloth into my head, letting it wet my hair. I smile up into the face of this perfect, sweet boy who I'm lucky enough to be here with tonight._

_"This feels so good."_

_"All I want to do is make you feel good." I dunk my head under the water and when I come up Syd giggles as he sees my hair full of bubbles. _

_"Will you kiss me?"_

_"I'll give you anything you want." He bends over to kiss me, but before our lips meet he blows some bubbles off of my head, and we both break out laughing because the bubbles are flying all over the place and they're so funny the way they float around like that. We kiss, and I feel like I can't get enough of him. If I could I'd never, ever stop kissing him. When we pull apart I splash him, only a tiny bit, and we both burst out laughing again, but this time it doesn't stop until I can feel tears in my eyes. All of that stuff that happened with Roger is worth it if it means being with him. _

_When I'm done, he lets the water out of the tub and pulls me up to stand. I reach for one of his dark blue, plush towels, but he steals it from me and shakes his head with a smile on his face. I let him towel me off until I'm completely dry, and I blush as I feel him drying my most private places. _

_Syd throws the towel down on the floor and leads me by the hand back to his bedroom._

_"I'd like to put my pajamas on."_

_"Where are they? I'll find them for you and I'll help dress you. It would make me so happy to do so." I open the trunk with my clothes in it...he folded them. That's just so aggravating. Roger's so fucking worthless, I won't think about him again for the rest of the night. _

_Syd picks a pair of pink pajamas for me. He says he likes the way pink looks with my brown hair, so I stand and let him help me into them, and when he bends down to help me step into them, glances up at me, and smiles this funny wide smile with every part of his face. When I'm fully dressed he stands back and looks me over while he walks around me, a clear hint of approval in his eyes. He marvels at me when in just my pajamas. I don't ever want to look at another boy. Syd is the only one I want. I wonder if he feels the same way about me. I want to ask, but I'm too scared that he'll reject me. What if he says he doesn't love me this way, that it's too soon, that he is still seeing another girl, or that he wants to see other girls? I don't think I can handle getting my heart broken again, but I want to give my heart to Syd more than I ever thought I might want to give it to Roger, and even more than I thought I ever wanted to give it to any boy I liked back home. I want to wrap it up in a big pink satin package with a sparkly bow and give it to him and hope that he'll always take care of it. _

_"Syd?" He comes closer to me and wraps me in his arms._

_"Yes?"_

_"I want to be with you. I know we don't know each other well, but I think I love you already." I close my eyes as I speak these words because I'm so afraid he's going to reject me. I don't think I've ever been so scared in my life. _

_"I told you before, I've decided I don't ever want to love anyone else. I don't even remember what my last girlfriend looked like. Do you want to be my girlfriend, Maisie?" I'm so overjoyed. This is all I've ever wanted, to be loved by a beautiful boy like this, and to be able to give my love and have him want it. I throw my arms around him and kiss him deeply until I can't breathe._

_"Yes, I want to be your girlfriend. More than anything." _


	70. Maisie - London, September 2006 - The Hotel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maisie struggles with feelings of regret as she and David enjoy their breakfast.

The poor boy who brought our breakfast to our room looked so nervous. He was definitely expecting someone famous to open the door, but when he saw David he couldn't really get a sentence out. Poor kid. I gave him a $20 tip for being so polite. 

So now we're sitting in bed with our trays and eating, and I'm dropping red grapes into his mouth like Cleopatra feeding Mark Antony. He lifts strawberries to my mouth with a fork, and I gobble it up with a slight laugh only he can give me . As he pulls the fork from my mouth I pull him in for another sweet, passionate kiss, the kind of kiss that could wake me up from an eternal slumber. He's my prince on a white horse, I'm his damsel in distress. I'm David's adoring muse, and he's my beautiful, sensitive, quiet and melancholy artist. It works more than anything with any man ever did. What an idiot I was, letting David go. I always wanted my male Gloria just because I need the physical love, the romance, and the sex, and that's never been in the cards for me and her. 

David is my male Gloria.

Every kiss electrifies me, and I'm coming alive, fully alive.... the kind of alive you only feel when you're finally home.

"I don't want you to go," I whisper as our eyes meet one another and exchange a loving, knowing glance. He kisses me on the forehead and rumples my hair, and I lean into him so I can enjoy his warmth and the steady beating of his beautiful heart.

"I don't want to go either, Maisie, but we'll see each other again soon. I'm coming to Maine to be with you, remember? I'm going to get us a house. A beautiful house right by the ocean if that's what you want." I gaze into his crystal blue eyes. They're like a clear spring running through a lush, green forest. They're the eyes of the man I belong with: the striking, friendly, warm and loving eyes of my one true love.

But calling him my one true love now doesn't feel right. I've had two true loves. Two beautiful true loves who I will cherish until I pass away: hopefully to be able to love them both again sometime, somewhere.

David is my true love,but I can't deny for one second that Syd is also. If I denied that I'd check myself into a hospital. Syd was my sweet darling, my precious diamond in the rough. When I think about Syd I feel the same feelings I have when I look at David right now...that intense closeness that can only come with the linking of souls. Is this even an acceptable way to feel about two different people? I know I can love more than one person, but to feel like two different men are my true love...is that disrespectful to either of them? I don't think it is. Why would it be? Love should be found everywhere. I think David would understand, and I know Syd would. 

"Do you want to know what Roger said last night?" 

"Not particularly." I let out a snicker. I can see the exasperation that clouds up David's face as he hears Roger's name. What a shame. There was a time when the two of them were friends. Roger just has this uncanny ability to make other people detest him. 

"It's nothing bad. I promise."

"That's new. Usually when he talks something bad comes out of his mouth." 

"Really, it's more funny than anything else." 

As I regale David with the tale of Roger assuming he knew the truth about me and Syd I am gripped by the full strength of the realization that David's actually here with me again after all of these years, and I'm not sure why I didn't have this realization until now. I stop and I stare into his eyes once again.

"Are you okay, babe?"

"Yeah, that's the thing. I'm more than okay. I think for the first time in years I feel whole again now that you're with me. I don't think I told you just how much I have longed for you all these years, David, and how many nights I've stayed awake blaming myself for being an idiot and leaving you." 

I just keep thinking back on that night that David came home in 1986, the night I left him. 

It wasn't an easy decision. I had spent months agonizing over it, talking myself out of it, and trying to convince myself it was the wrong decision. I tried so hard to go through all the reasons that staying with David was a good idea, and the truth was that there were many more reasons to stay than there were to leave, but I felt so lonely without him there that it felt like all those reasons didn't matter as much.

He knew something was wrong when he walked in the door and looked at me, sitting at the kitchen table with my head in my hands. He approached me and tried to wrap me in his arms, but as much as it killed me I rejected his touch. I broke down crying, and I watched his eyes cloud over with horror as I spoke the words:

I can't do this anymore, David.

The memory still seems so fresh. 

And I've been heartbroken all this time that he never chased after me, but I never chased after him either. I could have gone to him and begged him to please forgive me for leaving, to please give me a second chance, but all this time I've been angry with him for moving on...as if I haven't.

"David, I…" He can sense that I'm having trouble, and he pulls me close to his chest. One rogue tear escapes my eye and I squeeze him tightly against me. I'm just more grateful than I can even tell you that I'm here with him. My David. My hero.

"Whatever it is, baby, I can guarantee it's not a big deal." 

I can feel that lump in my throat, but I try to laugh. I think I might be the luckiest woman in the world because a man like David not only exists, but he also loves me. Me. I'm a huge mess (if you hadn't figured that out). For example, here I am, reunited with the man I've been longing for almost every night of my life for the past 20 years, and I'm wasting my time crying because of my regrets. I'm such a petri dish of both biological and environmental mental problems. You don't even know. But David does, and always has, and he's here. 

"I'm okay. Really. I just can't believe you're really here and that we are going to be together. You could have just as easily told me to fuck off. I don't know why you'd ever forgive me." David laughs, shakes his head, and squeezes me tighter. His embrace lets me know immediately how ridiculous he thinks what I'm saying is, and I'm so grateful. 

"Come on, Maisie, really? Are you trying to make me laugh? Why would I ever tell you to fuck off, and what do you think I need to forgive you for?" 

"For walking away." Folding me into the crook of his arm, he kisses the top of my head and I reach my hand up to touch his face like I need to get myself reacquainted with every inch of soft skin, every line and spot and irregularity. Every part of his soft, full lips is like a reawakening of experience when I touch them. His kiss on my fingertips is loving and gentle the way it always was when we were younger. 

"I'm not angry that you walked away. I don't blame you. You must have been so lonely when I was away, and neither of us thought for you to come with me more often than you did. A lot of people who are with people like me do the same thing. It broke my heart, and I never recovered from the loss, but I was never angry. I just missed you all the time. You're silly. Thinking I'd ever tell you to fuck off. Did you forget that I'm 100% certain that the sun shines directly out of your ass?" I look up at him again and playfully bite his ear. I think the sun shines out his ass, too, and he knows it. 

That's all the reassurance I think I needed. I've never doubted David was telling the truth; I've never needed to doubt it. He's honest, but with the way we are, if he were lying I'd know. I always knew. I think he lied maybe three times to me before he figured out that I could always tell.


	71. Syd - Cambridge, April 2006 - Syd and Maisie's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE: For anyone who's interested, I added some content to chapter 32, the scene where Maisie loses her virginity. 
> 
> As for this chapter, we have the continuation of Syd and Maisie's wedding night

I close my eyes as I feel Maisie gently stroking my head, which is close to her soft, warm breasts, and I take in a deep, rejuvenating and calming breath. I was so upset before because I couldn't keep myself going ,but now: with her arms around me, and I'm so close to her, it doesn't seem to matter as much. All that matters is that we are together, and that she loves me even though I can't do it. The most beautiful woman in the world loves me. Me. Of all people. I don't want to put myself down, but I'm not all well still, and I'm not beautiful and my life has been very isolated and chaotic. She has no reason to love me. But no...she does have reasons…because she is in love with me, too. If she didn't have reasons to love me, would she? Probably not. 

"Syd, baby, I don't think it's a good idea to try to do that anymore, okay? We've never needed that to complete our love. What we have is so special even without it. So no more sex. That's the end of it. We don't need you to feel so bad."

"But Maisie...I want to give you everything you need."

"My baby, you do." I sit up and look her over, her naked body splayed across our bed like a centerfold, except she's so much more beautiful than any model in any magazine, or even Victoria Beckham (don't tell Maisie...I mean really don't tell her...I had a crush on Victoria Beckham). If you look at a woman's body when she's aged, and if you aren't a cretin who would complain that she had the nerve to do so, you see so much beauty and sensuality and wisdom. And she looks like that. My goddess.

"I don't think I'm enough of a man for you," I whisper as I stare at the ugly blue carpet and whip myself with my self doubt. Even though I know she's right, and that it doesn't matter...I want to be enough for her so that when we're together, she never feels like there's something missing. I know she needs this, and I can't give my Queen everything she needs. I only wanted to please her. 

Now Maisie sits up, and she turns my face back so I'm looking her straight in her pretty chocolate frosting eyes that are so sweet and so loving. I'm so lucky. I shut my eyes and let out a small smile as I feel her smooth hand on my face, tracing my jawline and my cheekbone. But when I open my eyes again, Maisie pulls me close to her until our faces are barely apart, and I can see in her eyes that she's already scolding me for having even had the thought. I'm wilting. She's so perfect. I let her cover my face with kisses. What did I do right? 

"You are more of a man than most men I have ever met. I don't know who or what gave you the idea that what makes a man is the functionality of his dick, but that's not what it is about at all. What makes a man is the size of his heart, and the kindness and strength inside of him, and the love he has for those around him. So many men are not loving, devoted and gentle like you are while also being so strong. You called me to tell me you were dying, and even though I know your doctors agree, I don't see a dying man in front of me, and haven't since the day I got here. If what makes a man is what he does in bed that's a very low bar to set, and I just don't agree. You're a real man, and I couldn't ask for anything more from you." 

What does it mean to be a real man? Why do I feel like I am too soft, or too weak...too fragile, too submissive, too childlike? I don't understand. Why do we even need to define what a man is? A person is a person as far as I'm concerned, and I am pretty confident that I am one of them, and I'm allowed to just be a person and not a man. That's restrictive. I don't really even get it. We only look different, men and women.

I wish I wasn't going to cry, but I am! I pull her so close to me...I don't think she's used to me being so forceful, but I don't know what else to do other than grab her and squeeze her so hard that I feel like I'm trying to absorb her. 

I've done nothing in my life to deserve this kind of beautiful love from this amazing goddess. For some reason she loves me so much that she married me even though I hurt her so bad. Especially because I wished all the time...even on stars, and I don't think that really works, but I was willing to try anything...that maybe one day she'd come home and let me love her again just like this, but I never thought about sex. It's only tonight that I'm beating myself up, but this is the best night of my life so why am I ruining it for myself? I'm married to her, we are supposed to be celebrating! 

"Do you really think so?" 

"Yes, and I'll say yes every time you ask me. You're beautiful, kind, and everyone who is lucky enough to be your friend, or your family, or your wife knows exactly how lucky we are." Maisie kisses my tears away...she never judges me for crying so easy. A lot of women might be annoyed with me. Probably not many would want to deal with it, and I understand. But she doesn't mind. She kisses my tears away the way David probably did for her.

When I was in my 40s, and things were much worse than they are now, I forgot a lot of things about the late 60s. It was probably because my brain was such a mess and it couldn't handle holding onto those memories. I forgot a lot of things. I forgot some things about Pink Floyd, probably because it hurt too much. I forgot a lot about whoever those people were that lived with me after Maisie went away. (Rosemary told me they were very mean and took advantage of me, and one day after Mum told me I had to move back with her I scared them all off with a fit. I hit one of them very hard.) I forgot how to play the guitar mostly. I forgot a few things about Maisie, too. I didn't think I had, but there were things she remembers that I don't!

But I didn't forget about important things. And one of the most important things was the night Maisie came to stay for the first time.

I liked her so much, you see. I really wanted her to come home with me and stay, and she did! I hate that Roger hurt my Maisie so bad, but when he did she came to stay with me just like I wanted. And that night she came and we were together, but we never had sex. I told her I didn't want to. That was the nicest night… so why did I want to have sex in the first place???? I know exactly what I want.


	72. Maisie - London, January 2006 - Heathrow Airport

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maisie, having landed in London, reunites with Rosemary Breen, Syd's kindly younger sister.

Why did I wear this outfit for international travel? I'm so fucking uncomfortable in these terrible flat shoes and these formal, stiff pants. Hopefully when I get there I can change. 

I haven't seen Rosemary in decades, so I'm not sure what she looks like now. I hope she has some kind of sign or something. 

The last time I saw Rosemary was right after what happened with Syd waiting outside our house . She came by David's and apologized for what her brother did, but I told her it wasn't her responsibility. Syd was going to be institutionalized, she said, and that felt like such a relief. I couldn't have lasted much longer living that way, and in those days stalking like that was considered harmless, so the police wouldn't do much about it. 

Rosemary is a sweet woman, and all the evidence suggests that she's a loving and devoted sister who knows exactly what her brother has done in his life but is dedicated to making sure he has the most comfortable life that he can. And even though he did me wrong I admire Rosemary for that. It couldn't have been an easy job. God knows it wasn't for the short time I did it. 

As much as I'm happy to be off that plane, I'm kind of dreading meeting Rosemary because then it's really only a matter of time until I've got to face him again. I'm not really sure if I should be as scared as I am. What am I expecting? It doesn't seem to make a lot of sense that Rosemary would allow this to happen if Syd weren't well enough to take it. I think she'd know better than to thrust an innocent person into a dangerous situation. I'm sure that Syd has grown and recovered and that everything is going to be fine. Right? 

Oh, wow. There she is. There's Rosemary. She has a sign with my name on it and everything, but I'd know it was her anyway. She's still got that pretty red hair even into her later age, and I think it's still cute as ever. 

With every ounce of grit inside of me, the grit that her brother helped me build, I step into her line of vision, and as she registers my face I see hers light up. I wasn't expecting her to be so happy to see me. Maybe it's just because she doesn't want to stand here anymore. I don't know. She drops the sign, takes my bags, places them down and opens her arms for a hug. We were never especially close. I mean, we were friendly, and she was always so grateful that I tried to take care of her brother. We were never really friends, though, so the affectionate reception is a bit odd. 

I let her hug me, though. Maybe there's a legitimate reason for it. Maybe she's just happy that Syd is happy. When she pulls away she picks up both of my bags, but I insist on taking one myself. I'm tired, but not that tired that I can't carry my own bags. Jesus. 

I barely say a word while we're on the way out to her car, an old gray Toyota, and I think she can tell how nervous I am because after she loads my bags into her trunk, she rubs my back and gives me a sympathetic smile. She even opens my car door and shuts it after I step in. Man, it's going to be weird getting used to these backwards cars they drive here on their backwards roads again. It's weird every time. I can do it, and I'm going to rent myself a car as soon as possible, but it's still going to suck to get used to. 

A few awkward, silent moments pass before she takes a breath to prepare to start talking to me finally. I knew it was coming, but I had no way of preparing for anything she was going to say. I decided to go into this completely without expectations other than "I will not get emotionally or otherwise involved with this man". I'm not expecting anything, and I haven't really tried to prepare for anything, either. If I go into this worrying about anything it'll just ruin the experience automatically, and I'm actually open to enjoying spending time with him. 

"Are you feeling okay about this, Maisie? I understand it's probably very difficult for you to come back into this situation, considering all that happened between you." 

There's the understatement of the year. 

"I mean, if I'm being honest I have no idea what to expect, and that's more than a little terrifying." She lets out a small, barely concealed giggle, and if I were as sensitive as I used to be I'd probably be angry at her for it. Certainly an interesting reaction, I'll give her that.

"I'm not trying to laugh at you, forgive me. I understand completely why you're feeling the way you are. But I'm only laughing because when you meet my brother again you will understand right away why you don't need to be scared." I really needed to hear that, and in fact, I need to hear more about it, because every ounce of reassurance I can get is exceedingly important.

"Really? You're sure?"

"Oh my, yes. Roger's very much recovered now. He's not 100%, and I don't think he ever will be, but you are not in any danger whatsoever. He's really quite sweet, you know, and very gentle and kind. The kids in the neighborhood just adore him, if you can imagine that." I can totally imagine that. Syd's a big kid at heart and always was. 

"So, I have nothing to be worried about." 

"Oh, my dear, not a thing. Sometimes we may catch the odd sour or sullen mood, or sometimes a sharp tongue, but something tells me that you in particular won't need to expect that ever." I can see her flashing a knowing smile at me. Only quickly. That's interesting. I don't know how I really feel about that. I guess it'll be nice to see him again if it's all as she says. 

"Why do you think so?"

"I suppose I should tell you so that when he does you won't be surprised." Oh, god. What? There's something I need to be warned of beforehand? That's the last thing I wanted to hear. Now my heart's running a race in my body and my jaw is clenching…

"I'm sorry?"

"Well, Maisie, Roger hasn't quite…he hasn't...well, he hasn't seen anyone since you left. Not even a phone call from a woman, ever, besides his dear friend Kathy from the cafe." 

If I were standing, my knees might buckle. But I'm sitting down, and so instead I sort of lose my grip on my cell phone, and it drops to the floor. I can't believe this. Is she serious? It's been nearly 40 years since I left Syd, and she's telling me that in that ungodly amount of time he hasn't once even spoken to a woman on the phone. What the hell did I get myself into? I'm headed right into something insane, aren't I?

"Not... nothing? No one? This entire time?" 

"I'm afraid not...I understand if it's hard to hear, that's why I thought I'd tell you ahead of time." 

"I guess yeah, it's unsettling. I've of course moved on, I think you know."

"Roger knows that, too." There's some sadness in her smile. I don't think she's sad that I've moved on, but rather for her brother, who hasn't.

"I don't really know what to say. I mean, why?"

"I don't think he can actually see anyone else. I'm afraid that my brother is still quite smitten with you. That's another thing you should know. He's talked about you to anyone that will listen ever since he started going about in public again, and making friends. Roger is still very much in love with you, so please do be careful. Not that I'm saying you're in any danger, but I don't want him to get his heart broken. He's still so delicate." 

"I understand. I'll do my best to be conscious of how I'm acting." Inside I'm pretty much screaming, and I can't tell if I'm afraid, or if I'm so angry it feels like I'm afraid.


	73. Roger - Cambridge, 1967 - Roger's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger throws himself a pity party over his mistakes and his recently discovered feelings.

_Well, they're gone off to his house so they can be one another's problems now. I'd really love to be able to enjoy getting another girl out of my hair so I can go find another one, but I don't think I can. In fact, I'm certain I can't enjoy it because my heart feels so broken. The feeling is like someone has a fistful of my guts, and they're just squeezing and twisting my insides for fun, splaying my intestines all over the room because it suits them. _

_I fucked up everything. _

_I guess I'll just go to bed at this point. I'm too depressed to play my bass, I'm too despondent even to drink. I even open the refrigerator and the liquor cabinet and stare at all my booze, and I consider it, but ultimately I don't have the energy to open a bottle and pour a glass. And the thought of then having to pick up the glass and expend the energy to use my muscles to actually drink the stuff...it's too much of a bother right now. _

_Don't tell anyone, please, but I think I'm going to miss her. I know I'm going to miss her, because for some reason I already do. I find myself wishing so hard that she'd come back and keep me company. Just how long have I felt this way about her? I'm thinking about it, thinking very hard about it, and I think I've felt this way for a good while now. Maybe all along…wouldn't that be just bonkers?_

_Let's go down the list of everything I missed, shall we? _

_I didn't take my time with my approach when I saw her. I usually make girls come to me, and very rarely do I approach them outright. I saw her there, and I had to go talk to her. There wasn't a single question, after I spotted Maisie walking alone in the park, that I needed to know who she was. I needed to know her name, and how I could see her again. That's not how it registered to me at the time, but that's what it was._

_I let her stay here. I've literally thrown women out of my house with their clothes barely on. The ways in which I've avoided being close to girls would probably infuriate you, and since I'm sure you already don't like me very much (and who would?) I won't bother giving you any more details, because I've been cruel and didn't think twice about it. But it didn't seem like a stretch, or even anything out of the ordinary, to offer Maisie a place to stay. It didn't even ping my radar as something uncomfortable, which should have set off alarm bells in my head back then. Also, I let her cook for me (although admittedly she's not great at it- not a surprise for a girl who grew up with a family who had staff). _

_As much as I tried to tell myself it was nothing, I really loved to sleep next to her. There were a lot of times I just stared at her, waiting for something to happen, trying to figure out what the hell I was feeling, and why. She'd be laying there, and she's such a heavy sleeper sometimes I could hold her and she wouldn't wake up, but I tried to tell myself it always happens, or that it doesn't mean anything. It doesn't always happen. I don't want to sleep with women that way. Or at least I didn't before her. _

_I flirt with other girls, okay, but only when they're fans who approach me, and it's what I'm expected to do. I don't seek other women out. I don't think it's occurred to me to do so, really. I have cheated on every one who stuck around for more than a month. She cheated on me, but I will have you know I never considered it as an option._

_There's a lot more... do you want to know?_

_Do you want to know how I mistook the breathlessness she makes me feel for anger? Like feeling so in love with her, that made me so bloody angry because it's not fair to have to feel weak for someone. It's not supposed to happen to me. I'm beyond this. Above it. I've transcended my need for love from women. That's what I'd told myself, anyway, that I was above something so stupid as falling in love._

_ I couldn't breathe sometimes watching her there, doing something else, unaware I was looking at her and seeing so much that I didn't think I was allowed to see. _

_I knew something was off. She was closer to me than anyone, and yet I hated her for it. It seemed like she must have had an ulterior motive. I told her some things I'd never told anyone else before, like about my mum being so sure something was terribly wrong with me every time I had the nerve to "act out", and calling the doctor...pumping me full of medications... I'd never said that to anyone before._

_I don't want to do anything but go to bed now. It's rare that I'm so depressed the thought of drinking feels like too much work, but given the circumstances I think I have every right to feel the way I do about it. If I hadn't been so stupid right from the beginning, and I'd just realized that all those strange occurrences meant I was falling in love, I could have salvaged this by now. I could have made sure I never pulled away. _

_This evening was the first time she's really let me kiss her in months...but she pulled away then, too. Every time I try she pulls away. _

_Fuck. This is the worst feeling I've ever had. This is the loneliest I've felt since I was a boy, sleeping here without her. You're such a fucking prat, Roger. You're a dense, thick headed bloody stupid idiot, the way you don't understand how you feel at all until it's too late. God, fuck it. It's over. I've already burned that bridge._

_Is this a tear? Are you shitting me? Am I crying? I'm fucking crying. Can someone please explain to me why the hell I had to fucking finally fall for somebody only for it to be the same girl my best friend (who is better looking, friendlier, more well liked, more talented and less angry) . likes, too? It was doomed before it got the chance to be anything. I'd choose Syd over me, too! _

_Fucking hell. ._

_Crying over a girl. What's wrong with you? _


	74. David's Wife - Sussex, 2007 - Their House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another preview! We finally get a good fight.

don't know why I ever bothered. David was a hard nut to crack from our first date. 

Let's just say this: I fell in love with David's personality and his warm heart, but if I didn't know who he was I don't think I would have given him a chance. It was obvious he was going through something because he had gained a lot of weight from the end of the 80s until we met in 1990. He really did not look good, not compared to the '70s, anyway. I thought about turning him down, but I agreed to go out with him, and I was smitten by the end of our first date. And by all impressions I got, he felt the same way.

We continued like that, in bliss, for in my view about six years before the melancholy and depression and withdrawal started to get bad. If we weren't married by that time, I might have given up. For awhile it was so bad that I would let him stay locked in his studio for hours without bothering him, but I got tired of that pretty quickly. I started trying to get him to talk to me, and it never worked, but I thought if I kept trying eventually he had to come around. Nope. He never came around. What he did was keep me indefinitely, perpetually in the dark, and unbeknownst to me, he was doing all of us a favor.

And here we are, 17 years after our first date, 15 years since we married: after years of coaxing, begging, dealmaking, bribing, sweet talk, and loads and loads of hugs and kisses meant to make him see that he was my everything, I've finally got that answer I was seeking all this time that he (for good reason) refused to give me. And now I'm wishing with everything I have that I could erase it all from my memory, and close the door on everything I've found out in the past few days. If I could forget, we could go back to being (what I thought was) happy. I would gladly go on being blissfully unaware of what my husband was up to over in the States, not even stopping to wonder why he was staying there so long or why the gaps in between trips kept getting shorter, not really thinking about why when he was at home he barely had time for me because he was always with the kids, not really noticing that sex had all but ceased. Well, I noticed, but without taking everything else into account it seemed only like the kind of sex pitfall marriages usually fall into once in awhile where it stops until one of you has the courage to spark it again. 

I don't know, though. I don't think I really want to stay married to David, either. I felt for a long time like I was pulling his weight everywhere in our life: with the kids, with the house, with our marriage, and even his personal weight that I shouldn't have had to pull. What I mean by that is just that I got so tired of David's moods. And there's no way that May was or is spared this, either.

That's the answer I want from her. All of that other shit, I don't care anymore. Or at least in this moment I don't care. I might care some other time. I wish I had taken her number, because I'd love to call her back and ask her: "What did and what do you do when he gets depressed and avoids you?" With my luck, the answer I'd get would be: "What are you talking about? David doesn't do that." But you know what? I'm sure he does do it. There's no way that kind of personality only happens because of a heartbreak. David has likely always been this way, but maybe May had a way of dealing with it that worked for both of them. She probably just left him alone and never bothered him to talk to her if he didn't want to. What a novel concept: leave him alone. That's what my friends always told me to do, but I never listened. Maybe if I'd listened, things would have worked out better. Maybe he would've gotten over her. But then again...why am I blaming myself for this? I don't think I could have forced him to let her go. It seems like he was holding steadfastly to that, and it wouldn't matter what I did or tried to do. 

I could go down the list of things that maybe I could have done better…

Did I let myself go? It can't be that - she weighs more than me.

Am I too old? It can't be that, either - she's a few years older than me.

Did I get frigid? It isn't that - I wanted sex more than he did.

Was I overbearing? Clingy? Did I nag at him too often? Could I have been more patient with him? Did I ask for too much?

I need answers. Guess I'll go right to the source and get them.


	75. Maisie - Cambridge, 1968 - Syd and Maisie's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maisie begins to suspect something isn't right with her boyfriend, who's beginning to deteriorate.

_Syd and I went for a walk today, and I'm very worried about him. Something's not right. He was okay until a few days ago. We were having fun together like usual. Talking, laughing, singing ...enjoying one another. We made love that night in his bed, and he was so sweet and loving...the way he kissed me, and the way our bodies fit so well together when he's inside me. I've never felt bliss like I feel when we're together, whether we're having sex or not. Syd is the only boy I ever want to be with. _

_And he's always been the sweetest, most wonderful boy ever, too. We can't get enough of one another._

_But like I said, something's not right. _

_His eyes were different the past few days, and they look worse today. Usually there's a light...a life in them. One of my favorite things about Syd is his beautiful, gentle eyes._

_Today there wasn't that life in them at all. They were big, black holes. I couldn't see my baby in there; he was gone. He was walking beside me, but he wasn't really there. And I tried to call his name, and shake him, but he shoved me away. He never touches me that way. I don't understand. What happened to him? _

_I don't think I did anything wrong, but I can't get him to talk to me, so I don't know. It's possible I did something, but this is just so out of character. _

_So I made him turn around, and I took him home. And now he's asleep in the bedroom with the door locked from the inside and the light off even though the sun is setting. I made him some tea and some soup and after he finished all he wanted to do was pass out. The worst part is that I tried to lie with him, and hold him, but he pulled away. He didn't want anything to do with me, and it feels like he's being just like Roger even though he said he wouldn't. _

_I guess I'll wash the dishes. I might as well do something besides sit here and feel sorry for myself and worry that my love doesn't want me anymore. _

_When I'm halfway through the dishes, my hands clad in soap covered rubber gloves and my hair back in a sloppy ponytail, I feel Syd's soft lips on my cheek, and I heave a sigh of relief: my baby's okay._

_"I'm so sorry, my Maisie. Something isn't right with me, and I'm very scared." I can hear the shakiness in his sweet voice, and when I pull off my gloves and turn toward him I see the tears rolling down his cheeks. I open my arms for my sweet boy and let him collapse into them._

_"There's nothing wrong with you, baby." I can feel the fury in the way he's shaking his head and he sobs with twice the agony as the tears he was crying showed. "Let's go sit down. Come on." _

_Although he lets me lead him to the sofa, and he sits down, and he burrows into my body he can't seem to calm himself. Syd is still shaking and sobbing even as I rock him back and forth and shush him like I might a crying baby. _

_"Something is so wrong with me, Maisie. I can't think right. Nothing makes any sense. I think I am seeing things that aren't there, and my thoughts are all scrambled and wrong. I am having trouble feeling my feelings. Please help me. I'm so scared." I don't know what to do for him or how to help, and I feel so useless. I can't do anything for him._

_"Why don't we get you to a doctor, baby?" Now the sobs grow even louder, and they're interspersed with a chorus of "no no no"s as he clutches at my waist and tugs on my blouse. I've never seen him be anything like this before. This has nothing to do with me. It's not about anything I did. He's not acting like Roger. Something isn't right with him. _

_"I'm scared, Maisie, please don't let me go. I'm scared of what happens when you let go." I lead him back toward our bedroom, unsure what to really do or say, but I think after I get him to relax I should call …. Ugh. Roger. I should probably call Roger, because I don't know who else to talk to. I don't know how to reach his sister or his mother. _

_"I won't let go, baby," I whisper as I lay him down and snuggle into him. His body starts to relax when I let my hand drift back and forth over his chest. I can feel the lull in his breathing and the steadying of his heartbeat, and he clutches me tighter as his sobs slow to erratic hyperventilating. _

_"Stay with me, please." I hold my baby so tightly until he's able to fall back into another sleep, and then take great care to move him as little as possible when I shake him off me to stand up. _

_Here we go._

_Having to call this idiot is such a burden on me emotionally, even physically. I can feel my head pounding with rage, and the clenching of my jaw is only aggravating my headache. It's the headache only he can give me. When I have to be around him, if I can't manage to pretend he isn't there, I clench my teeth so tight that it always ends up giving me a bad headache, and I have to sleep to recover from it sometimes if the exposure has gone on too long._

_But I have to do it. I have to do it for my baby. I dial the asshole's phone number, and set my lips in a tight pucker, trying not to grind my teeth._


	76. Roger - Cambridge, 1968 - Syd's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger heads to Syd's house to help Maisie with Syd, and h gets more than he could ever have hoped for from her.

_I'm on my way over to Syd's because Maisie called me, and she told me he's not well. _

_I saw it coming. Didn't I tell you? _

_I knew he was going to lose his marbles awhile back. _

_I was with this chick Jessie when she called me. First thing I did when I heard her voice on the other end? Kick Jessie out. Throw her clothes into the hallway, and with my hand tightly over the receiver, I yell "go home!" Then she left, and I, all awash in the thrill of talking to my secret love, (crouched on the floor fucking naked like a teenage girl who's slowly melted to her knees, curling the cord around her finger) waited patiently for my pleasant surprise to speak to me. _

_That's until she started actually speaking, and instead of anything even remotely pleasant she started crying on the phone about Syd. Fucking hell, I thought, what am I supposed to do? But she was crying. I had to go. I'm not sure what I'm going to do, or how I'm going to fix it, but I'm going to fix it. I'm almost flattered that she thought to call me, but it might be only because she doesn't know who else to call. _

_Maisie answers the door when I knock. She's in tears still, and it breaks my heart. I feel like I must be staring at her or something. She shambles toward a chair and sinks down, defeated and tired._

_"Come in," she whimpers, and leans her head in her hand which is propped up by her elbow on their dining room table. Her hair is splayed all around her like a luxurious fur coat and her shoulders are trembling. I can hear her sobbing. This isn't what I came here for. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do. _

_"Where's Syd?"_

_"He's still asleep." She asked me to come over even though Syd's asleep? Just so I can be here when he wakes up, I guess, but what am I supposed to do in the meantime? Am I supposed to comfort her? I think the question is more like "am I going to comfort her", because I'm almost certain that I should. If I did, though, how would I even begin to go about doing that? I know what I want to do: take her in my arms until she's stopped crying, but that's not an option. _

_"I'm not...really good at this, so I'm sorry in advance." I reach out my hand to touch one trembling shoulder, and it's not like I expected her to do anything, but she doesn't even acknowledge that I'm there. At least she doesn't for awhile, but eventually she looks up at me. I prepare for her to pull herself away. I'm steeling myself because no matter how prepared I am for it, it will still hurt me when she does it. _

_But my hand's still on her shoulder after she raises her head. She knows it's there, she can clearly see it. I might have snuck a light touch of her soft hair, but I hope she didn't notice._

_"When you see him you'll cry, too." _

_"I don't know about that. It can't be all that bad. We've seen him through bad trips before."_

_"And so have I. Whatever this is...it isn't that. I haven't let him have any LSD in days, but he's so out there in space that he hasn't noticed I'm giving him lumps of sugar. He thinks he's tripping, but he's not, Roger. Something's wrong with him." _

_That does sound strange. As far as I know, Syd is always fine if he doesn't use for a few days. He's never stayed out of his mind before at least for as long as I've known him. I'm happy to know he has someone responsible living with him, especially because when that slag Lindsay was around she had all kinds of rabble about bringing in god knows what and giving it to him all the time. It was funny to get Syd Barrett good and high. What a laugh for everyone. With Maisie here he's apparently kicked the habit without noticing, but while I'd swear that was a good thing any other time, I just can't seem to summon the feeling that this means anything good at all. _

_"Maisie, we'll take care of it. The three of us will take care of it. You just do what you can." The tears resume...oh, god, I can't deal with this. I start to rub her back. I don't know what else to do. Somehow, I feel like if Maisie could be comforted by anyone besides Syd it wouldn't be me. I'm probably the last person she'd want to be doing this, but alas, I'm the one who's comforting her. _

_"Can we never talk about this again?"_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"I mean…" came a stern voice from under a pile of brown curls, "...I need a hug, and I don't want to ever talk about it again after this." There's a current charging through me now that I've been able to properly process this very unlikely request, and although I'm feeling so tense and uncomfortable I won't...I can't...turn her away. _

_"Okay. We won't mention it again. I'll forget it ever happened. If things are as bad as you say, I need this, too." (I will never forget that it happened.) She nods and I feel her arms slide around my back. I can fit my awkward gangly arms all the way around her, and it feels otherworldly. I don't know what kind of a hug I'm supposed to give. Do I give her the hug that feels right, or do I give her the hug I think is platonic enough that she couldn't see it as anything else? Her body is so close to me...I think she's starting to wonder about me because I can tell I'm stiff. Frozen. Her warmth threatens to melt my freeze, and I decide to go with my gut. Go for it. Just this once. It won't hurt. The worst she can do is ask me to stop. _

_I pull her tightly against me, my arms pressing into her lower back and her shoulders, and I rest my head on top of hers. This is going to slaughter me later when I'm trying to sleep. She doesn't fight me. She's too exhausted to protest. I know she wishes I were someone else, but so do I. Even though she wants someone else I'm the one who's here to hold her now. I tighten my hold on her and I'm so tempted to pull her off this chair and into my lap that I have to consciously remind myself not to do so._

_I'm here, Maisie. Don't cry. I'm going to take care of it. I'd take care of you, too, if I could and if you'd let me. This is what I want that I can't tell you I want. Just stay in my arms for awhile, and maybe you'll feel a little better. I know I will. I know I already do._

_Her desperate cries continue: it's like she can't stop for anything, like a car that's gone out of control and is too far gone to make a safe stop. How can I do anything for her? She's devastated. Syd must be in very rough shape. Maisie is in pieces. If I could I'd bandage them all and make her whole again, and before I bandaged every wound I would kiss them: every single wound on her heart, I'd kiss them gently until she felt safe and loved again. But she will never let me love her._

_At a loss for anything else to do, I rock her a bit, only for a minute. I don't know how to comfort anyone because I've never had to. I'm flying by the seat of my pants on this one. In my arms she's like a limp ragdoll until she hugs me again, too, and I couldn't be more conflicted. I'm worried to death about my best friend, but this is also enough to lighten my mood. Maybe this is when I'm supposed to pull away, but for Christ's sake I don't want to. I want to milk this for every second I have it. Her tears on my shoulder are upsetting to me, but their presence gives me something. Even if she never trusts me again, she does right now. My hands creep lower down her back until they're locked around her naturally cinched waist. _

_I want to kiss her so bad. This would be the perfect time to pull back, to give her an intent look, and then lean in to kiss her...her eyes wide with surprise, but her mouth willing. She'd wilt in my arms and give herself to me, finally surrender her heart to me, and accept that she's mine._

_Kill me. _

_"Maybe we should see if Syd is awake," she says as she snaps me out of my fantasy... the one I always have where I tell her everything, and I can change, and she forgives me and discovers there's a love only I can give her, and that's the only love she wants. The fantasy where she pulls me close, and she kisses me the way she did that time at my house... deeply, gratefully, full of emotion and unbridled passion. And then she tells me she wishes we had never broken up, and we spend our lives happy and in love. That fantasy. The one it hurts enough to have wakefulness snap me out of. Imagine what it feels like to have the one you're fantasizing about do it._

_I loosen my grasp, she pulls away, and I feel the heat rising in my face. I better not be blushing. Fuck. _

_I already feel cold without her. _

_"Come with me," she whispers when she's at Syd's door. She pushes it open, and he's there, lying in the dark motionless like a corpse. I see it, though. He's awake. His eyes are open, and I can hear him muttering to himself._

_"Syd, it's Roger. I think that you should get out of bed and talk to me." _

_"There's no point in talking to you. My brain is all broken and scattered. Go away, Roger. I don't want to talk to anyone but my Maisie."_

_Of fucking course. _

_"Syd, I don't care if your brain is broken. I want to help you. Maisie asked me to come here; she wants you to talk to me too." I sit down on the bed next to him, and I try not to let the thought that this is the bed she sleeps in cloud my judgment or make me take my mind off of why I'm really here. It's tough, though. _

_"Go away, Roger. Go away," Syd whines in a voice muffled by his pillow, which he's buried his face in._

_"No, Syd. Let's talk." _

_"I said fuck off!" I look back at Maisie, unsure what to do about his refusal to even speak to me, and I see she's crying again. I don't have enough support to do this. She can't handle it the way I think it should be handled on her own, and she shouldn't have to. I need to get the other guys here. At least if I can have help somebody might get through to him._

_"Do you want the other guys to come over?"_

_"No. I don't want to see anyone except my girl." _

_"Syd, that's not healthy. That's not fair to her. I'm going to send her back out of the bedroom now, and you're going to talk to me."_

_"Don't make Maisie go." _

_"She needs a break. You'll be fine with me. I'm your best friend, and I love you." _

_"Please don't make her go away." _

_"Maisie, do you want to stay?"_

_"I just want him to be better, so I'll do whatever will help him." I'm not sure what will help him, but he's hell-bent on having her in the room._

_I've never seen Syd like this. Whether anyone wants to admit it or not, he may not come back from this. _

_"Have you thought about getting him to a doctor?" Syd lets out a loud, wailing "no" when I even mention the word 'doctor'. He's never liked doctors, and his mother has never been able to get him to see one. _

_And it continued like this until I finally convinced Syd to come out into the living room if Maisie would stay by him, which of course she did. She sat by him and held him while he leaned into her body. He'd barely look at me while he clung to her. I tried to stay focused on him, and forget that I felt so jealous. It wasn't easy, but I seem to have been able to do it. _

_Something is wrong, and we have to help in whatever way we can. I partially blame myself for this. I knew how many drugs he was doing, and how often he was doing them, and I said nothing. I let my friend get fucked up by this horrid vice he has because I've been drinking heavily for a year and a half or so, and never felt so low functioning. As soon as I leave I'm going to talk to everyone else, and we're going to help him. _

_I owe it to them both._


	77. David - London, September 2006 - The Hotel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the late upload, but I've been in and out of the hospital all week with a really rare condition called CHS (like Maisie, I love my weed). Anyway...enjoy!

"So when will you come see me in Maine?" 

My love's brown eyes are overflowing with hope and excitement, and I couldn't be happier to see it. After all these years, we're finally going to be together, and our lives will be peaceful, uninterrupted by other people's mess. 

"I'm going to look at houses as soon as I get home, and when I find a suitable one I'll run it by you, but we will be talking and texting every day. Just because we have to wait to be together doesn't mean we have to be completely apart. I'll text you every morning when I wake up, and every night before I go to sleep, and we will steal a phone call when it's possible. But I'll find a house real soon, and we'll be moved in in no time."

"Do you want to go half on it?" 

"I absolutely do not. Did you think I would let you get away with that? You can furnish it." 

"Don't tell me that. I'll go crazy with interior design.." Her eyes light up as she gets up to draw the curtains so we can let some light into the room.

Maisie loves to decorate. I still regret destroying the furniture she bought for our place we were in when she left me because she has great taste. (It also sucked to have no furniture.)

"Go crazy. It's our dream home, and it's your own money." 

"Have I told you that I love you in the past five minutes?"

"I don't believe so, no." She pulls me close to her, the scent of her flowery moisturizer still lingering from last night and her love overpowering everything else in my head. 

"I love you, David. I love you to the end of the world and the end of time, and you can't do anything about it."

One thing I know and maybe have always known is that while she and I may love other people, we will never be able to recreate this otherworldly connection we have with anyone else. I know Maisie still loves Syd: she made this very clear to me when we talked more about it maybe an hour or so ago. As she told it, she is still in love with him, and that's fine with me. The point is that although she loves him, and he for certain more than loved her, they do not and did not share the same connection. No one could come close to this. 

"Anyone who says soulmates don't exist hasn't met us, my love." We laugh and I suggest one more go in the hot tub. We've got about three hours to go before I have to leave, and I think we should make the best of it.

"Do you only want to sit in the hot tub, or were you thinking more than that?" That's my girl: always jumping at the chance to have sex. I swear, if I didn't get tired out we might never stop. I'm not complaining at all: in fact, I'm a bit in awe of it, if I'm being honest. Her sex drive, that is. I only hope I don't stop functioning, she might look elsewhere. I'm kidding. (I know for a fact that she wouldn’t. Plus, sex wouldn’t have to stop for her only because I couldn’t get off.) 

"I think I'd only like to sit in the hot tub for today, babe. I'm still sore from last night. It's good to know that you still have your same appetites, though, because I would love to satisfy them when I see you next." She leans her head on my shoulder, her hand on my chest with fingers swirling around in my chest hair. I hold her hand right to my heart and then bring it to my lips, and as our eyes meet she pulls me in. Our lips land upon one another at the same time, and we share hungry, eager kisses that never go out of step with each other. We’re holding on tight to every single moment we’ve got together, not only because we’ve only a few more hours, but also because the longer we can hold on the longer the memories will last while we have to be apart.

“You’re a tease, you know.” 

“Think of how good it’ll be when we’ve been apart for awhile.”


	78. David - Cambridge, 1969 - Syd and Maisie's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, David works up the nerve to talk to Maisie, and they have an encounter that pleasantly surprises him. Alas, it's ruined when Syd calls out for her.

_This is all quite troubling, I think. Syd's been acting stranger and stranger all the time, like it’s starting to become disturbing, and I worry a lot about it. We’ve decided we won’t be picking Syd up when we leave for the gig in America next month because it's getting to be a liability, or even just more trouble than it's worth because he barely plays any music, he doesn't sing anything or he just plays one note over and over. _

_By the way, since I know you might be wondering: I do worry more than anything else about what’s going to happen to Maisie when we’re all over in America and she’s here alone with Syd. Amelia offered to stay behind, so luckily she won’t be completely without anyone else, but it makes me nervous still. _

_He’s completely off his rocker. Syd is disappearing. The guy I see right now lumbering around his house screaming for everyone but Maisie and Roger to “fuck off”... that guy isn’t my friend Syd. When I met Syd in high school he was a magical, fascinating, beautiful person. I couldn’t have asked for a better or more interesting friend, and so when Roger asked me to play in a band with him I was obviously thrilled; we all knew how brilliant Syd was, even if he didn’t see it that way. I don’t think he really understands the fame part of all this. I think he’s baffled and disturbed by it, and it’s making him turn further and further inwards. He won’t see anyone but Roger and Maisie ever. Sometimes his sister is allowed to come over, but that’s rare. Most of the time Maisie is with Syd by herself trying to hold him together on her own with no help. Some mother, Syd’s is. Leaving a woman barely out of her teens with a sick boy just out of his...that’s pretty heartless._

_I haven’t spoken to Syd, really spoken to Syd, in weeks. It’s been weeks since Maisie told Roger what was going on with him, and I hadn’t spoken to him since before that. I’m right here at his house, but he won’t even look at me or talk to me. He has to know that we aren’t going to keep him in the band much longer, and I’m almost certain he knows I’ll be replacing him. That part kills me, because I don’t want to take Syd’s place. I’d really like to play with him, not instead of him. I joined Pink Floyd thinking I was going to be in a band with him, but it turns out Roger was just trying to replace Syd and preferred me over other guitarists he’d been eyeing. (I’d also like to point out that Roger makes me very suspicious. I don’t think he’s all right upstairs. Now, I know that you think Syd is crazy, but he can’t help it. Roger knows.) So right now, I’m feeling pretty guilty and horrible. _

_A big part of it really is that I don’t have a good feeling about leaving Maisie with him._

_We’ve come over today because she needs help around the house, and Roger insisted we help her clean up and paint some of the outside of the house, and all this other maintenance that needed to be done. He didn’t need to ask me twice; I knew she’d be here. We haven’t been seeing as much of her since Syd stopped coming to practice, and I’ve missed seeing her so of course I jumped at this chance. I still haven’t gotten up enough nerve to really talk to her, and ever since I heard from Roger that Syd had taken credit for my note I’ve been really nervous about it because now she has absolutely no idea when maybe she might have considered it if he hadn't lied. I’m pretty sure she really doesn’t think much of me, but that’s only because I haven’t really talked to her at all. Anyone would look right through somebody who doesn’t talk to them. She probably thinks I don't like her at all. Hah. _

_I think I’ll talk to her today, if I can catch her away from Syd at all. It’ll be nice to get to know her a bit better. I can tell she’s not doing well because she looks tired and pale and like she hasn’t been eating enough. Maisie is stretching herself too thin trying to take care of him, and I don’t like it one bit. Someone else should be taking care of Syd like his mother or sister or the fucking state, I don’t know. Nobody should be leaving the care of a very sick person like this to such a young woman, and also completely deprive her of help. It would be too much work for any one person, and it’s an injustice that it’s all falling on her shoulders. She’s not ready for this kind of life, and she doesn’t deserve to have to be ready for it because there’s so much life she has left to live before she needs to worry about settling down and taking care of someone else. You know who wouldn’t do that to her? I wouldn’t. We’ll see where it goes, I guess. Either she likes me or she doesn’t. The worst thing that could happen would be for her to say no. I guess her not even noticing me would be worse, but I doubt that will be a problem._

_I can hear her in the house talking to Syd, who's shivering like he's got frostbite and whimpering about being scared of voices. Wherever Syd is it's nowhere near where we are. He's on another plane somewhere hearing and seeing different things, and we couldn't catch him before he flew away._

_“Why don’t you go lay back down? We’re going to paint the house a little bit, just over the cracks in the paint so it looks nicer for us, okay? And I’m going to cut some flowers from the garden to put in the kitchen so it smells nice, and I know you love the pink ones so I’ll make sure that I cut those. And then I’m going to vacuum the floors and the furniture so everything will look clean. Things are going to get so much better around here now, and I think it’ll make you feel better too.” _

_Ugh. Listen to her. She should be having fun. She should be out until 2 a.m. with us smoking grass and drinking and having a good time, but instead she’s here following Syd around trying to clean up his mess (literally and figuratively). I’m not saying I’d be better for her or anything, I’m just saying I think she’d have more fun with me. Plus, I’d take care of her. I wouldn’t make her take care of me. What kind of a man would I be if I did that?_

_“I don’t want them to come in, Maisie. Please? I don’t want to see anybody but you, or Roger if he wants to come in, but he probably doesn’t...he never wants to see me anymore. Do you think he’s stopped loving me?” _

_Oh, come on. He shouldn’t ever have to ask that, but I know why he is: Roger has definitely been distant, but I thought it was more because he’s dead inside and isn’t at all sure of how to proceed with Syd. _

_“Of course your best friend still loves you. All your friends are here, right? That’s because Roger asked them to come. Of course he loves you. Don’t even worry about that, baby.” _

_This is going to make leaving him here while we go to America all that much worse. Luckily it’s only one gig, so we won’t be gone that long, but now that I know that Syd’s already so hurt I do feel very bad even going at all. I wish I’d known I was being scouted as a replacement. I wouldn’t have done this. Now I guess it’s kind of unavoidable. _

_Roger’s out here listening to them too, and I can see his face fall to the floor. He listens to Syd crying and then he turns around and leaves, and I’m a little put off by it, but I think that he’s really just not sure what to do or say and doesn’t want to come off as being weak. I let him go; I'm not interested in helping comfort Roger, if that's what he's looking for...which he probably isn't. I'm sure what he actually wants is to be left all alone as usual, so he can go and do that. What I'm here to do right now is be here when she comes out so I can make her smile. I feel like she doesn't smile enough anymore. Maisie was always shy, but it wasn't hard to get her to smile. You just had to look at her the right way. Lately, though, Maisie's smile looks fake and kind of...lifeless. I'm going to change that today. _

_Finally Maisie coaxes Syd back into bed, and now she's coming outside. Shit. I better move so it looks like I wasn't listening. I turn around for a second as Maisie opens the front door and trudges out, dragging her feet, and I see Roger sort of off to the side behind a tree. Odd. Oh well. That's none of my business. He can be strange on his own. _

_"Hey," I say, cursing my inability to come up with anything more interesting to greet her with. She looks at me, and then her eyes dart back to the ground, defeated. _

_"Hey, David." _

_She sinks to the ground, leaning against the house with her knees up to her chest. Her hair hides her pretty face; I can tell she wants to cry, but she's refusing to. _

_"How are you holding up? You're doing a great job, you know, taking care of Syd and everything." Now she looks up at me, her eyes betraying a deep sadness, but I can tell she's also genuinely appreciative. That's good. This isn't so hard. _

_"Thanks," she mutters, "it's horrible doing this all on my own. I don't know what to do with him. I wish Roger would come over more, or Rosemary or Syd's mother would not listen when he tells them to leave." _

_"You shouldn't have to do it on your own. You're his girlfriend, not his mother."_

_"I'm sure one day his mother will stop acting like...like a…I don't know what I'm trying to say. I shouldn't talk about his mother like that..I'm just so angry that she's left him here with me alone even though she knows what's going on. It feels like she cares more about leaving her life undisturbed than she does about caring for her own son." _

_Oh, that's too sad. Poor Syd. His own mum won't come out for him. I'm going to talk to Roger and insist he come here more often after we get home from New York City. I would, but he doesn't want to see me. I'm not sure why, though. We were always close. I always thought we had a closer friendship than he had with Roger, but I suppose I was wrong._

_Now Roger finally makes himself visible. He's been behind that tree the entire time. How creepy is that? He looks at Maisie for a second, and she of course doesn't acknowledge him, but I watch his cheeks redden a bit. I know the two of them don't get along well. _

_"I'm going to take Nick and Rick down to the store. We'll get lunch for everyone. Maisie, do you think that Syd will want anything to eat?" Maisie doesn't even raise her head to look at Roger: she just shakes her head and looks back at me. That's good: keep doing that. Wow, I really like it when she looks at me. I smile at her, and I watch her cheeks flush pink as Roger keeps looking on. He's noticed us look at one another. I can see his face twisting up with a grimace. Hmm..._

_"Syd won't eat anything unless I make it for him. He's convinced someone wants to poison his food." She says this with a heavy overtone of being exasperated and frustrated. That's awful. I'm not going to continue to allow her to do this by herself. Roger is going to come over and help her and he doesn't have much of a choice. Maisie can't do this by herself._

_"Oh. Well, alright then." I see him take a long look at her before turning to leave with an expression in his eyes that looks like pain, but he's utterly fascinated by her. I think I am beginning to understand what's going on here: Roger must still like her. What a shame, the poor chap has not a chance in hell unless he somehow manipulates the entire situation. I watch him turn around to look at her one more time, and as expected, she doesn't even realize he's looking. They leave to go to the delicatessen and I forget them as soon as they're gone._

_"I think I'm going to try to paint a little bit. Maybe it will make me feel better. Do you want to hold the tray for me?" I pick it up without saying anything, and she pours some white paint into it and climbs up the ladder with the roller wet with paint in her hand. I notice the ladder isn't on steady ground, and as I put the tray down to try and steady it she moves the ladder the wrong way, and although I try to stop the ladder from falling I can't stop it before it's tipping over too fast. I open my arms, ready to catch her, and she falls right into them as she comes tumbling off of it. _

_Well, that was lucky. I lose my balance, and we fall to the ground, my arms still locked around her waist so I take the hit first. _

_We both burst out laughing, and I can't help myself: I squeeze her a little bit, trying to savor this closeness while I have it, and she doesn't move: she doesn't even try to dissuade me. I'm pretty sure today is my lucky day. Since she isn't protesting, I don't let her go. I'm not sure what we are doing, really, but I don't care: she can stay here for as long as she likes. She’s wearing an old red and white striped t-shirt of Syd’s, but she's covered it with a paint splattered sweater, and she's wearing cute denim shorts. She looks sexy with every curve of her body right there in my face, and that’s not a thought I’m entirely used to having. Stop, David. Be a gentleman. _

_It’s been a few minutes, and to my surprise we’re still here in this position laughing our heads off, and she’s still not trying to get away. This is absolutely wonderful and amazing because I could finally be getting somewhere with getting to know this beautiful and intelligent young woman who's shy like I am, and is so caring obviously, and who loves to laugh. I think she knows deep down that she deserves better than Syd and having to take care of him, and I know I told you that I wasn’t saying I’m better for her, but I’m totally better for her. I’m better for her than they both are. I don’t have any weird hang ups or strange illnesses like Syd, I barely do anything but drink sometimes or smoke grass (I hate LSD, such a terrible drug - I will never do it again). I don’t have problems with women like Roger, and I'm not empty and dead inside like he is. I’m pretty in touch with my emotions, even if I don’t talk about them I still know what they are and I don’t feel very bothered by them. I’m even tempered, I’m stable, I’m responsible with my money, I know what I want out of life and out of a relationship and I feel like I might be ready to commit to someone. So I know I’d be better for her than either of them, I’m just not enough of an asshole to say it out loud. I won’t get her to like me by comparing myself to other guys. That sounds too much like what Syd did, anyway: persuade Maisie he was better just because he wasn’t Roger. That’s not my style. I don’t need to put him down to make her like me. I haven’t been feeling very confident, but what we’re doing right now has helped me get a bit of a boost._

_“Oh my god, I’m sorry. I didn’t get any paint from that roller on you, did I?” If she did, I was too busy enjoying myself to notice._

_“Honestly, if you did, I didn’t notice. I was too busy making sure you didn’t fall and hurt yourself.” I check my clothes and see no spots of paint, though I notice she’s got some on herself. “You have some on you though, unfortunately.” _

_“Oh, where?” I take my hand and point to the spot, right on her stomach. I poke her, just as a joke, and she lets out a loud, uncontrollable giggle that's so real and fun, and unrestrained._

_That must have tickled her. I’ll remember that, because for some reason I can just tell this won’t be our last “meeting” like this. I feel a weird...connection with her. A connection. Is that crazy? I feel like I can tell what she’s thinking. Does she feel the same thing, or am I just out of my mind for this girl? _

_“Right there.”_

_“Oh, no. Luckily this is Syd’s shirt and I doubt he’ll notice it.” _

_And still she isn't telling me to move, or trying to get up and do something else as an excuse to get away. I wonder if she’s even aware that she’s giving me major signals right now, but I think she’s very well aware of that. I’m pretty sure she’s doing it on purpose. _

_Out of the corner I see Roger there with Nick and Rick trailing behind him, and I'll be damned if he doesn't look some kind of uncomfortable and distraught. Hands in the pockets, slumped over, shaggy brown hair covering his face. He's such a creep, isn't he? I'm going to be so surprised if you don't think he's one creepy bloke._

_Back from the store already, unfortunately. His mouth hangs open like a ghoul with his horse teeth as he notices us sitting there, laughing, me with my arms still firmly around her, and her now resting her hands on them, and his eyes are suspicious...but jealous, too. There’s a clear message of jealousy in those serpentine eyes of his: “why does she like everyone but me”. I can hear it as clearly as if he’s speaking the words. And just before I’m about to begrudgingly open my arms and let her go, I hear a spooked animal or ghost sound coming from inside the house, some inhuman shriek fully intent upon ending our good time together, and I roll my eyes._

_“MAISIE!!!!!” She pulls away, stands up and sprints off without even saying anything to me. Must heed the call, I suppose. I’m left alone to explain myself to Roger and the other two now, who are looking on with their eyebrows raised. _


	79. Maisie - Cambridge, 1968 - Syd and Maisie's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maisie comforts her poor boyfriend, but she is admittedly starting to feel drained. As much as she doesn't want to, and as guilty as she feels, she can't quite stop thinking about David...

_When I heard him scream, I knew immediately what I had to do, but when it happened, I just felt so fatigued and drained that deep down part of me wanted to ignore it. I don't want to leave him alone, but it's just that it's all the time now. I don't get a break ever. It's been awhile since I got to see Amelia or Nick or Victoria, or even write to Gloria. She must be getting worried about me. As well she should, I guess._

_I love my baby boy. He's the only one for me, I know, and I know I can help him feel better if I'm patient, loving, warm and devoted, and I get him to a doctor. Then I know he'll be okay. But I won't leave him alone to suffer. I love him far too much to do that to him, and besides...I don't want to say that part of the reason I stay is to avoid going back to the witch's house, but admittedly there's that part of it though too. That's such a small part of me though. What I really stay for is to help my baby heal. _

_And I know I must seem very bad to you now that I've admitted this to you, but please understand where I'm coming from and believe me when I say this isn't my main motivation for staying. _

_"Syd? Baby, I'm here. Wendy's here, Peter." _

_"Please let me hold you, Wendy." He's in tears, face down on our bed, and he looks like just as much of a mess as he has always lately. I lie down next to him and pull him into a loving embrace, trying to show him how safe he is with me. Is it even possible to get through to him anymore? Is Syd still really here? Sometimes it feels like he's here with me, but a lot of the time it feels like I've lost my baby to the cosmos. He clutches at me, almost digging his hands into my back. The tears just keep coming, flowing like a flash flood that's sweeping everything it touches away to drown. If he doesn't drown in his tears, I might. "Please don't leave me, Maisie." _

_"I'm never going away. Don't you ever worry about me leaving. You and I are meant to be, and we'll always be together. I'll marry you someday, I promise you." I can't help but sort of consider my doubts when I say that. I don't know if I can do this forever. This is physically and mentally draining, and if he never gets into treatment I don't think I could stay. _

_Also...never mind. It's nothing, that thing that happened with David. There's time to think about it later, but I'm almost sure it doesn't mean anything. Maybe David could be like Nick, and we can be good friends. He's really nice so I could definitely be friends with him. Anyway…_

_I hold Syd until I hear him fading into sleep. This room is so dark and depressing, and he hasn't let me change the sheets in weeks, so it stinks in here like sweat and unwashed body (I am lucky if he showers once a week.) I think I might need to take charge a little more instead of trying to coax him into things. It's hell trying to get through to him anymore, but I'm going to do what I have to do. I won't be mean to him, but it's clear that if he won't get treatment maybe he needs me to know what's best and to be a little more firm. That's not something that seems too difficult. _

_My love is asleep beside me, turned over with his head resting on my breasts, still clutching at me even now. I stroke his hair, which has started thinning even though he's only 22 at the temples. The beautiful mop of ebony curls that I adored...now it's falling out in bunches or he pulls it out. I don't really recognize him. When will it get better? Surely someday it has to get better._

_Now that he's asleep, I think I can think about what happened today without feeling too guilty. _

_What was that, anyway? As soon as I fell off that ladder and into David's arms I was smacked in the head with this feeling like I knew him inside and out even though we don't talk often, and have been talking less because I barely ever get to leave the house. When I fell, and he caught me, and then we fell to the ground it was such a shock I couldn't move. Even if I could have…_

_Stop it, Maisie. Just stop it. Sure, David's cute. He's got this face... it's almost feminine, and these icy blue eyes that even though they're the color of cool water are so warm and friendly...he has these beautiful full lips and a deep, cool voice. And his hair…and the way he's just so nice. Every time I've talked to David he's been so nice to me. I should stop right here. I already have the man of my dreams, the man I know I'm going to marry. But I feel like...almost like I've known David my whole life. That's so strange because like I said we've barely talked. _

_Am I imagining that he squeezed me, though? It feels like he did, but I don't always trust myself._


	80. Maisie - Cambridge, January 2006 - Syd's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the first night she arrives at Syd's house Maisie is already struggling to keep her resolve from cracking. She's surprised to discover that Syd is still so much who he was all those years ago, but as far as his house...that might need some improvements.

Oh, dear god.

I had expected that Syd would look different, and that his house might be a little unorthodox. I wasn't ready for the reality of things, though, because the reality is a lot more extreme than I was thinking. This is part of why I told myself to avoid having expectations, but I guess I figured that there's a certain standard most people strive to meet in terms of furnishing their home. I should have known that when there are standards a lot of the time the Syd that I knew didn't really think about them. And also it's kind of inconsiderate of me to fail to consider his physical and mental health when I make a judgment like this. 

Nevertheless, the house is not going to be comfortable for me to stay in, and I wish it were different, but I'm not that low maintenance. The furniture is almost all handmade (and not well), and for things like end tables or bookcases that's fine, but the box springs for the beds, the sofa, the kitchen table...all those things are very shoddily built and painted all different colors. Bright, bold colors: yellow, blue, red and green...and don't even get me started on the curtains. They're just pieces of nursery fabric hanging on the windows. Maybe you think I'm being a bitch, and you are more than welcome to your opinion, but I'm used to a certain standard of living, unfortunately, and this is a little shocking. I don't mind buying myself a bed, but if he'll let me I'd like to buy him a real sofa too, and maybe a kitchen table and chairs. 

As for Syd himself… I'm going to try and be as gentle as I possibly can. He looks nothing like himself when I knew him, but he does look almost the same as he did that day at the studio, except he's lost weight since then, and obviously he's aged. His face is tired, world weary, worn...I can tell he has lived a difficult life. He has shaved off all of his hair, but I can see some starting to grow back, although his temples and the top of his head are completely bare. He is a rough 60, a man who has suffered through life and whose suffering has taken a toll on his physical beauty. I have to admit...please don't tell anyone...I was not disgusted by him, not at all, but I would be lying if I said there was never one second of feeling taken aback and maybe afraid of how he looked. 

There's one thing about him that has, but also hasn't changed: his eyes. What I mean is that Syd's eyes when I last saw them were empty: a deep black endless void, but now when he looks at me they look like they did when he was young and we were first together. His eyes are innocent, sweet and loving… nothing's changed. It's been 40 years since Syd and I spent any time together, or even really spoke at all, but some things never change. His face may look worn, but his eyes? They're still young and new.

Rosemary warned me that he still loved me, but she didn't have to: I knew from the moment we looked at one another. He looked right at me, and those eyes grew wide, and he dropped his glass of water on the floor, shattering it in about ten pieces. His hands were shaking, and it fell right through his fingers. I saw love in his eyes then, and I saw it a few moments later when he cried and begged my forgiveness even though he didn't have to; I forgave him long ago. And that's when I found I was no longer really all that afraid of him. 

And now he's sitting across from me in one of these makeshift unfinished plywood kitchen chairs. I assured Rosemary it was okay to leave me with Syd, so she left about ten minutes ago, and I'm sitting here: unsure what to say or what to do, and feeling so confused. Unsure because, well, obviously this is an awkward situation for me, but I'm confused because I look into his eyes, and I see the eyes of the beautiful boy I once loved...and I get that pleasantly topsy turvy feeling in my stomach that I always used to get then when he looked at me. 

He doesn't scare me, but this does: this all too familiar roller-coaster feeling...the one you get when you're on your way up. It's the most excitement you've ever felt; it's scary, but you can't wait for it anyway. There's a way that your stomach rises into your chest only to drop right back down as soon as you begin to descend that's so exhilarating. Your heart's racing a mile a fucking minute. This is what terrifies me, because this is exactly what I had thought I'd be able to avoid. I thought that no longer finding Syd physically attractive meant that I'd feel no romantic feelings for him, and I haven't been here a day yet, but I already feel those old feelings. 

And he won't stop looking at me like that...it's making me so uncomfortable. These moments have been passing where we've said very little to one another, but every time he looks at me it's that same look, the puppy look (there are multiple Syd puppy looks - this is somewhere between sad puppy and puppy love), and I can't deal with it, I can't resist it. Every time I catch him looking at me like that it makes my heart beat faster, and my insides feel more twisted, and I just want to hold him so tight that it'll make up for all this time that he's missed me, but...

"Damn it, Syd. Please don't look at me like that." Now he's definitely more sad puppy, and that feels worse. I didn't mean to sound mad at him, I just can't resist the childish whimsy in his eyes. 

Holy shit. Wait a minute. He's starting to smile. What a relief. Oh, this isn't good, either: that's his flirty smile. Damn it. Fuck. It's the same sweet smile he showed me that day at practice in Nick's basement, the same day David gave me that note. It's the same smile today that it was then, and I feel as giddy now, but this time I know I can't stay in that giddiness. It's best to stay in a rational mind about this. 

"How am I looking at you?," he asks me with a gleam in his eyes. There's a jovial lilt in his soft voice: he's teasing me. Not even a day alone together, and he's already teasing me!

"I don't know. Just the way you're looking at me, it's…"

"How am I looking at you, Wendy?" Oh, my god, there's a name I haven't thought of in forever: Wendy. That's right. Syd gave me a few cute nicknames like that one. I used to love it when he called me by those nicknames. He laughs at me stammering over my words. All these years later and after all that chaos he's been through he still has that sweet little boy laugh. "Tell me. How am I looking at you?" He scrunches his nose and sticks his tongue out at me. 

"Stop," I stammer, but I can't hold in my own laughter anymore, and I explode into an orgasm of laughs as I always did when he teased me like this. He's still so funny without trying to be funny. It's remarkable that even though he's had a painful existence he's still so innocent. 

"I'm sorry, Maisie," he says as we both begin to resume normal breathing after laughing for so long. "May I be honest with you?"

Oh dear. Here we go. 

"Yes, you may." 

"Thank you. It's only that...well... I've waited so long for you, and you're really here. You're home. It's hard to believe it, and so I keep looking at you because I'm afraid if I look away for too long you won't be there anymore when I look back." My eyes are filling up with tears I am so determined to hold back that I shut them tight. "Please don't be angry with me. I mean no harm, I just... I've been…." His speech trails off, and I wipe away a rogue tear that escaped somehow when I opened my eyes for one second. 

"What is it?" Syd's nervous, I can tell because he's grinding his teeth and twiddling his thumbs. Every few seconds he moves to open his mouth, but he can't summon words. 

"Maisie, I…" We share a long look between us, and I want to look away, but his eyes won't let mine go. He extends his hand and holds it open, presumably asking for me to give him my own, and for some reason I do give him my hand, and as I feel his fingers slip through mine I feel an unease right in the middle of my heart. It's like a bolt of lightning right there, right in my heart. My eyes are still locked on his, and he searches for approval as he raises my hand to his lips.

"You...you can." With such an enthusiastic smile he leans down to kiss my hand, but as his lips brush it he peers up into my eyes again with that puppy love look. Fuck, I wish I could turn to stone. Maybe then I wouldn't feel so flustered, but those soft, gentle eyes...I can't help but feel so bashful. Anyone would melt looking at a man with eyes like that. It isn't just me. Any woman would have trouble resisting him, wouldn't they? With how adorable he is? It can't be just me. I refuse to believe that it's just me, but even if it is...I don't mind.

"I've been dreaming of you coming home for 40 years, and I've been so lonely without you all this time. Do you want me to stop looking at you, Maisie? I won't do it anymore if you don't like it, but I hope you don't ask me to stop. There's nothing I'd rather do than look at you." 

Damn it. 

I don't want him to stop looking at me. If I told him to stop he actually might, and I wouldn't be happy then. Even if I let him do this kind of thing, or touch me sometimes, it's not like something is going on with us. That was a firm boundary I set before I got here: No rekindling old flames. Syd and I are friends. Friends. Just. Friends. Old friends, but not really just friends. Don't lie to yourself.

"I don't want that. I just...it's making me nervous. This is really difficult for me: it took a lot of my courage to do it. I'm just on edge is all." Now his face falls, and I can see some premature tears in his eyes. Again ...damn it. I couldn't want to hold him any more than I do right now.

"Please don't be afraid of me. If I thought I might hurt you I never would have asked you to come. I never called you before because I knew I would probably hurt you again, but I'd never do anything to ever hurt you again now, so please don't be scared of me. Please?" He's really begging, for God's sake. Syd is still the same as he was. He begged then, too, and I always failed to resist him. Back in the day there was nothing I wouldn't do to make him feel better, and now tonight I am feeling the same way even though I wish I weren't. "It would break my heart if you were scared. So many people are scared, and I don't want them to be, but they are. So please don't you be afraid, too." 

It's obvious there's nothing to be afraid of. Whether it's his looks or this house I'm not sure, but I'm nervous. What a silly thing to be afraid of though, his looks. He doesn't look all that terrible. I bet if we cleaned him up he would be pretty handsome still. And even if he weren't, it's still a silly thing to be afraid of, and also very shallow. I'm embarrassed having had the thought. Syd is beautiful where it matters.

"I don't want to be, and I don't think I'm scared of you. I'm just nervous because I don't know what to expect. And I'm also wondering if you'd like me to buy you some furniture. I'd like to buy myself a bed, so if you wanted a sofa, or maybe a table and chairs for in here…."

"I don't care about any of this stuff, so you can buy whatever furniture you like as long as I can keep my chair, please. For as long as you stay I want you to be so happy. Rosemary doesn't like my furniture, either. And then when you go... I'll have memories of you." Fuck. It's like everything he says is engineered to make me want to cry. 

"Come on, don't talk like that. I just got here...you don't have to think about me leaving just yet. And I only want to get like a sofa and a kitchen set and a bed for the guest room where I'll be sleeping. Unless you want a new bed too."

"I wish you could stay forever," he whispers with a sly smile, like he knows he shouldn't be saying it. I don't think I mind, though. "And I don't mind if you buy me a bed or not. I don't think these sorts of things are very important. But please...if you have things delivered, can my nephew Ian bring the furniture inside? I don't want people I don't know coming in here because it scares me." 

"Of course, we can do that, or you and I can go look at some furniture together, if you'd like." His eyes light up, but then I see a tinge of fear, and maybe sadness in them.

"Could we go far away? I mean out of town. People might talk or bother you if they saw you with me." 

That breaks my heart that he thinks that, but is it because he has reason to or because he's paranoid? Syd had a big issue with paranoia in the late 60s. 

"Why do you think that?" 

"The townspeople don't bother me, but there could be tourists anywhere who might. I just don't want you to be unhappy for one second. But I wanted to tell you one more important thing. Is it okay?" 

The big grandfather clock in the living room strikes the hour: 9:00 pm. What time does that make it back home? Like 4:00, right? I wonder what he's going to tell me. No expectations, right?

"You can tell me anything. But also, I think if you're worried about gawkers we should stay in town." I want him to know he's safe with me. Even if I don't love him the same way he loves me, I want him to know he's perfectly safe, and that nothing will hurt him when I'm around. I place my hand on his hand, and I feel the tingling you get when you have a crush on somebody when he smiles up at me upon feeling my touch. Damn it. Damn it, damn it. I better gear up for this ride, because I'm not going to be able to get off it, but I need to control myself

"In all these years I know that you have been with others, and I am so happy for you, but I have never even looked at another woman. I've never loved anyone else. I promised you that I'd wait forever for you, and I did. I hope it doesn't scare you because you're my only one." Now I'm full on ugly crying, and I'm not even closing my eyes to try and stop the tears from coming anymore. It doesn't matter that Rosemary already told me: it's twice as impactful when Syd tells me himself. He said it in this way, it was like he had been rehearsing how to tell me that. I know that he doesn't mean to make me cry, but it's so difficult to stop. I'm so touched, is that the feeling? Whatever this feeling is it's driving me to tears. I watch as his lips pout...he must be thinking he said something wrong.

"Oh, you didn't say anything wrong. It isn't your fault. I just... I'm very touched by that. I don't understand though. There's so many women out there, so many nice, pretty women that would love you."

"I don't care," he whispers to me as he stares straight into my eyes, and his lips twist into a bashful smile "because they aren't my Maisie." 

Stop. Please... actually, don't stop. What's the problem with me? My plans are falling apart almost right away, but look at him: he's so sweet and pure. How am I supposed to resist this? How would any woman resist this?


	81. Roger - Cambridge, 1969 - Roger's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger throws himself one of his infamous pity parties, and you begin to wonder, "Is Syd really the crazy one?"

_I fucking hate this._

_First Syd, and now David too?_

_Is there a reason they can't leave my girl alone? One of them was bad enough, but now for all I know she could stay with David for a long time if they got together, and I'd never have a chance. I know David though...he's too shy to ever make a move. He's a fucking beautiful Viking god, he could have any woman he wanted, and yet the poor guy can't even figure out how to talk to them. _

_Syd's going to crack soon, even worse than he's cracking now. Something is going to happen, and Maisie might be in danger, and I'll swoop in and save her from his chaos, and give her a life of love and pleasure. I'd kiss her until she came back to life and totally forgot about him. If I can heal her from a heartbreak maybe it will make up for me breaking her heart._

_No matter what he does I'll be there to make sure she doesn't get hurt. And any time she needs me to hold her again I'll do so with no complaints or questions, and for as long as she needs me to._

_Syd won't hurt Maisie for as long as I can help it._

_But what am I going to do if I ever get separated from Syd? Were you told that we plan to throw him out of the band? Once that happens, it's very possible that Syd may never want to speak to me again. If that happened, my heart would break for the loss of my beloved friend, but even worse would be the pain of losing my love. It would be beyond painful to go through life knowing she was so close, but I couldn't be with her._

_I won't let it happen. I'll just have to find other ways to be with her. I'll have to watch at different times: maybe when she's at home in bed at night with him, and I can imagine that I'm the one in bed with her, holding and kissing her, maybe making love to her...maybe when she's dressing by the window, and I can watch her reveal her beautiful, soft ample body: her strong thighs, generous hips, slim waist, her perfect nipples...or maybe through her kitchen window as she prepares his dinner, her hair thrown into a sloppy bun while she cooks meals for him that should be for me. I've only actually watched her from the kitchen window before: cooking Syd's meals, singing to herself with a beautiful secret smile that even though she didn't know it belonged only to me because no one else saw it. I haven't actually watched her in their bedroom or seen her undress. I have limits, you know. I haven't seen her naked since we broke up, but it's so tempting. Sometimes I can't sleep thinking about how much I want to see her bare and vulnerable, caught by me in her most primitive state. If I am being honest I do hope that were I to catch her with no clothes I might also catch her doing for herself what her invalid boyfriend should be doing for her, if you catch my drift. Yes, I would love to watch her touch herself, and I'd do it too. I'd really do it, and you know how much I'd enjoy it. Does that make me a bit too creepy for you to root for me? I don't need your support, anyway. _

_I tried to be nice to her today after I heard her pleading with Syd, but she barely even looked at me. I wish she'd look at me, at least. Instead she clings faithfully and lovingly to Syd's arm, and even today looks at him with all the innocent adoration she had for him that day I watched them flirting in Nick's basement and it fucking killed me. She rushes to his side like a mother or a nurse, but she won't even talk to me. _

_And now I had to watch her sitting there wrapped in David's thick, muscular arms, laughing her head off. Encouraging him. She didn't even move: Maisie liked the way it felt to be held by him. I won't let him move in and steal her away from me. Not like it will matter if she dates him, anyway...she will always be mine._

_I wanted to beat his brains out. David, I mean. When I saw them together I felt this cold, steely fucking rage that could have killed him if I could harness it as a superpower. And I wanted to fucking kill him when I saw him with his hands on my girl, and I wanted to fucking cry when I saw her smiling and laughing like that. I could feel a sob in the deepest place in my belly begging to be let out, but I controlled myself, and I still don't know how. She enjoys the company of everyone in the band, but not me, and that kills me inside. What pisses me off is watching yet another man go where he shouldn't be: in my way of her. _

_I think I'll try to get strong like David is. Maybe if I'm big and buff like he is she'll see me more. I'm so skinny now there's no way she could ever feel as protected by me as she would by him, but that's all I want to do (well, not all…). _

_We're leaving for America next month, and that will mark Maisie and Syd's one year anniversary when we will have to leave her here alone with him. It was me who, when we agreed to leave Syd home, said, "but what about Maisie?" I said it. Not Prince Charming David or best friend Nick...me, and still nobody sees that I love her so much._

_I feel so cold without you. _

_If I begged you on my knees, and shed the equivalent of every tear I've since shed for you, would you come back to me? If I ran through a line of your admirers with a machete and cut every single one down just to get to you first, would you take notice of me? If I ran away with you, whisked you away, would you melt into my arms once you saw the lengths I'd go to to win your love?_

_My tall, skinny, blonde girlfriend Cora (I only date girls that are the polar opposite of Maisie, who is shorter, fuller and very much a dark brunette with olive tinted skin and eyes the color of cinnamon on top of black coffee ) is sitting next to me at the dinner table. I met her about three months ago, and she asked me to get involved...I obliged her. I don't let her come to practices or to Syd's because I want to avoid letting her meet Maisie for as long as I can. Once she sees me looking at her, Cora will know, and that will probably be the end of that. I like her, and I think I'll stay with her because it's nice at least to have somebody, but sometimes when I look at Cora I don't actually see her: I see the one I really love. It's like I'm just using Cora so I can superimpose Maisie onto her when that happens. Is that what I'm doing? Doesn't matter: what she doesn't know won't hurt her._

_It doesn't matter that I have Cora; I'm not going to give up on Maisie. I'm not going to let her get away, and she can't outrun my love. I'd only let maybe a week go by before I had to see her again, and then I couldn't stand it. I'd have to return to her window, or in the garden while she sits outside with Syd trying to help him get some sun, or on her way to the grocery store, and on her way home. I'd have to follow her: protect her. I really just want to protect her, and to rescue her. Whisk her away. Be her hero. _

_One day she will be mine. Rather, one day she will know she's mine; she'll surrender to being mine. Until then I'm going to have to learn to tolerate it when other men get in my way, and if that includes David...well, one day she'll still know she's mine. I'll snatch her right from under him, and take her far away and romance her until she can't resist me._


	82. Syd - Cambridge, April 2006 - Syd and Maisie's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Syd knows exactly what he wants to do on his wedding night in place of sex, and it's a callback to a sweet moment they shared all those years ago. However...lurking beneath the surface is a warning Syd is determined not to listen to.

Maisie?" I look up at her, and I see her smiling with a relaxed contentment, and I think again of how lucky I am. Other men have wanted to marry her, I'm sure, but Maisie told me that until we got back together, she never let men get too close to her. Maisie never gave her heart away to another man until she gave it to me. And it's me she chose to marry.

When we were young I used to love to brush Maisie's hair and tie it back, and help her dress, and massage her and serve her in any way I possibly could. And because we aren't going to be able to try any more sex (and that's fine with me) what I want to do to celebrate our wedding night is to do that again: to serve my Queen like the devoted and adoring servant I am.

"Yes, my love?" I burrow into her chest, nestling between her arm and her body with my hand gratefully resting between her breasts on top of her beautiful heart.

"I know what I want to do tonight instead of sex, and I wanted to know if you'll let me do it for you, and for me, too." 

"I bet I will," she whispers as she scratches me behind the ear and lets her finger toy with my earlobe. My skin feels all prickly like every hair on my body is standing up, but it feels so good when she touches me like this. 

"Remember that night you came to stay with me after Roger threw you out? And I pampered you all night, and you rewarded me with holding me all night and giving me so many kisses?" 

She lets out a warm laugh as she thinks back on that wonderful night when we fell in love, and we never fell out of it. (I don’t think Maisie ever fell out of love with me either, but I’ll let her believe that she did. After all, she deserves to feel however she feels about it. Maybe that’s wishful thinking.) I never fell out of it, at least. That perfect, amazing night that changed everything. 

"Of course I do, baby. That was the night you gave me a bath and dressed me, and made me tea and gave me a massage?"

"Yes, that night. That night was so special to me. It was the first time you let me worship you. And tonight, since we are sharing in celebrating being married, I think that's what I want: to worship you like my goddess." I can feel Maisie's delicate hand stroking my cheek and my ear, and eventually my lips too. I rest my eyes as I savor her cherishing my skin with her fingers and drift into a dreamy state where I remember all my wishes that are coming true right now: that Maisie would come home to me, that we could be in love again, and that she'd marry me like she promised. That's right! When we were kids and I was starting to be very sick, Maisie promised me she'd marry me. And when I was waiting for her I figured she'd never keep her promise, because there was no way Maisie could ever love me again.

Please forgive me for always repeating myself. Sometimes I don't remember how many times I've told you something before. And besides, even if I forget it doesn't matter, because I will say this to anyone who ever asks me as many times as they ask me about it: I have one person in the entire universe who I love beyond all others, who I think of beyond everyone else, and who I'd die lonely just to wait for, and that's my beautiful wife. And perhaps you may find that to be strange, unnatural, pathetic, or unbelievable, and to that I say this: you don’t know the first thing about true love, and I feel badly for you. 

And to the men who may be listening who don't quite understand me, and who are afraid of my eagerness toward submission: your anger and derision says more about you than it does about me, or about her. I can hear the things you might be calling both of us, and I'll have you know I disapprove and disagree. First off, "pussy" is a stupid and uncreative insult, not to mention that it implies that women are weak, which they are most certainly not. Secondly, I'm obviously not gay (bisexual, if you need to know), but I'm not sure about what being a man even is so that doesn't hurt my feelings anyway that you call me emasculated. As far as I'm concerned, it's called being liberated; masculinity is a confining but fragile shell that it's exhausting to try to maintain. Call me what you want: your wife is probably unsatisfied while mine isn't. And lastly, Maisie is most certainly not controlling, nor would she ever ever whip me. and I'm telling you that only once in the hopes that you'll be an adult and stop saying it.

"I would love to do that... if I could do it for you, too." 

For me? She wants to do that for me? I don't understand. Why would she want that?

"You don't have to...it gives me enough pleasure to serve you." 

"Well, it would give me pleasure to make you feel just as amazing as you make me feel every single day." She squeezes me tightly, pulls me hard against her, and I can feel myself tear up, but this time it's happy tears. 

I wonder how many men have loved Maisie that are smarter, better looking, or more healthy than I am. I can name one for sure, but I'm sure there's been so many. How could any man not love her? They'd have to be the crazy ones. Men like that would make me look normal. I'm sure she has been loved by so many, but she's not with any of them now, lying in bed together naked and so close. 

"You always make me feel amazing." Now Maisie sits up, and she pulls me up with her. Her beautiful moonlight hair falls in her face, a shade of silver many of us pray to attain once we age (though I no longer have to deal with that problem)....silver like a unicorn's mane. She glitters in the moonlight that's the same color as her hair as it slips through our bedroom window, spilling over our nude bodies and making me feel as natural and as primitive as I did the first night we made love. 

No one exists right now but she and me and all the animals and bugs and plants. We're naked in the garden of Eden, and all we know is that we exist for one another, and the world exists for us. 

>>But somewhere there's a serpent waiting for her... <<

That has nothing to do with anything. You stop that. Don't you come back; I know you aren't real, and I'm not listening to you anymore, so you'd best be quiet and stay away from us. 

(Please excuse me, sometimes I have to do that. I learned that in therapy.)

"Syd? Baby? Are you okay?" I shake myself back into the moment and open my eyes to look at my Silly Whim, and I lean down and kiss her forehead.

"I am now." 

"Just checking. Stay here with me, okay?"

"I'd never want to be anywhere else." 

Maisie takes hold of my hand and wraps her other arm around my neck, draping it over me. She looks up at me, and I lean down so our foreheads touch. I love it when she smiles at me and looks away like that. 

"Do you want me to tell you something honest? You have been so honest with me about your feelings, but I think you deserve for me to be honest about mine." 

I can see that she's smiling at me, but my throat drops into my belly and my blood runs cold with terror. I feel freezing inside; I'm so scared. What if she doesn't really love me the same way? What if she's been pretending? Has it all been a lie? What am I going to do? This is the worst thing that could have happened…

"I don't know…"

"I would like to tell you how I feel about you, Syd." I know she can tell I'm shaking from how afraid I am that it's all been a lie, that the most wonderful I've felt in years has been a lie. "Trust me, baby. Trust me." 

I know I can trust my Maisie more than anyone, and so do you. She wouldn't lie to me, especially not about that. If she wants to tell me how she feels, I will trust that what she has to say won’t hurt me.

“I trust you, Maisie. You can tell me anything.”

“I’m mad about you, and I’ve been mad about you since the first night I came back here. I tried very, very hard not to fall so in love with you, and denied my feelings over and over again. Every time you looked at me I felt like I wanted to get caught up with you and fly away. And when you tried to touch me, and I rejected you, it killed me to do it. I have been in love with you this entire time, and was too much of a coward to tell you. I’m in awe of you; I’m so disgustingly in love with you that I can hardly believe it, and you are the brightest light in my life. There is nothing I’d rather do than spend the rest of eternity wrapped up in you.” 

Is there anything that is better for a person to hear than that? Would you want to hear anything more than something like that? I don’t think there’s anything better that I could have ever heard. Not a song or an animal sound, or the wind or thunder. It isn’t the sound of the rain on the roof. The best thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life is the husky, stoic voice of my favorite person, my Mistress, telling me that she feels the exact same way about me, and always has. 

“So then...when you pushed me away...it was because you loved me?”

“That’s not what I mean. What I mean is that... unfortunately I am not always able to be honest with myself. If I could go back and do this all again I would have told you so much sooner than tonight that I was head over heels for you.”

“I have no regrets. The way that this all happened...I wouldn’t change a thing. I think that we have had a wonderful time together, and I can forgive you for not wanting to admit you loved me. I think I always knew you did, anyway…” 

Soon her arms are both around my neck and before I have time to consider what’s happening her lips are one with mine, and she’s kissing me with so much fire and so much love, and her hands are trailing down my arms now. I wrap my arms around the curve of her bottom. It makes me crazy to kiss her this way. 

“So do you want me to treat you like my King now, or would you rather treat me like your Queen first?” 

“I don’t want you to treat me like a King. I just want things to be the way they are. I don’t like all that fuss on me. What makes me feel the most powerful is serving you. I’d really like to brush your hair now, Maisie, please? I’ll be so gentle, I promise I won't hurt you. If it hurts I’ll stop.” 

“If you’re sure, then yes, of course I would love it if you brushed my hair. Thank you, Peter.” 

I can feel myself blush when she calls me by my favorite nickname. I painted a picture many years ago of Peter Pan and Wendy lying on the ground, holding one another and laughing, and it was supposed to be me and Maisie. I burned it the night I got home from the studio and they wouldn’t let me see her, and now I really wish I hadn’t. It was on canvas, and I hung it on the wall in the living room, and every night I would look at it and it would make me smile thinking of how we used to be before I broke apart and how she was always my lovely, sweet Wendy. I wish I never burned it because it would make her smile so much to see it now. Maisie gets up to retrieve her white soft bristled hair brush, and she passes it to me while I move behind her as she sits on her legs. 

It’s so strange to use a brush on someone’s hair again. I haven’t had hair to brush since the mid 70s, but I didn’t even really brush it then, so it’s been longer than that. I know that I used to love to brush Maisie’s hair when we were young, and the way it made her smile…

So I just do what I did last time, I hold each section, starting from the bottom and gently smoothing out all her snags, large and small, from both the bath and her throwing her head about in ecstasy when I licked her before. I pull a section of her hair back and press my lips into the side of her neck, and she shivers. 

Once I'm finished with every strand and her hair is totally free of all knots I pull it back and tie it in a very sloppy braid for her, and I kiss her ear.

Now, about an hour later, Maisie's fallen into sleep before me. I'm fighting to keep my eyes open just a second longer so our wedding night doesn't have to end, but I'm losing my battle. I have a big surprise for her tomorrow morning!


	83. Maisie - Cambridge, 1968 - Syd and Maisie's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW! Maisie and Syd celebrate their first anniversary. Luckily, Syd is lucid enough to celebrate properly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!!! Given the national lockdowns I am happy to provide you with reading material! However, I've got decades and decades to get through, and so if you want to pitch me some plot ideas please feel free to message me on Reddit (I have the same username there as I do here), or leave them in the comments.
> 
> I'm into Volume 2 now, but as with any soap opera it's long...so I have a lot of room to play with different plot ideas. Keep in mind that Syd/Maisie is non-existent after what you're gonna read in a few chapters, but I am totally open to scenes with them thinking of one another or talking to other characters about one another. Of course, anything that would fit into the timeline of their reunion would be fun too! No guarantee I'll use them, or use them the exact way you pitched them, but I'll do everything I can to incorporate your ideas.
> 
> I'm also open to traditional soap opera storylines ... Remember whenever all the characters or almost all of them gather in one place there's always some kind of disaster or big event, so we can have fun with that.
> 
> Feel free to torture Roger...he's our plot bitch

_Amelia stops by every few days, but I do have to confess that without the other guys as a safety net I do sometimes feel like I'm in completely over my head. If it weren't for Amelia, though, I'd probably be so much worse off. _

_It's our first anniversary today...the first of so many, I hope. To think that there was a time before Syd and I were together. That was back then before anything really mattered: before I grew up and before I met the love of my life. _

_I'm so lucky that in the past few days Syd has been pretty lucid, and so he's feeling pretty normal in time for us to celebrate our anniversary today. This morning he even made me breakfast, and he hasn't done that in such a long time, like maybe almost our entire relationship. It was good too, like the last time he made it. In the past few months I haven't really let him near the kitchen because he burns his food when he loses track of it. _

_I woke up this morning and in addition to my breakfast Syd had gone out early and picked me some orange lilies and left them in a vase on the table. When I saw them my heart melted; it's been such a long time since Syd picked me flowers, and he even picked my favorite ones. Everything felt so normal when I saw those flowers, almost like the past few months never happened._

_I gave him the biggest kiss ever when I found those flowers and my breakfast, and he was so happy to see I appreciated it. He was acting like himself again, and I’m so excited and relieved. It’s amazing to have my baby back. _

_It’s been a few months since we’ve had sex, which I’m sure you were assuming already, so with him back to himself for the moment I would really like today to try and maybe see if we can make love. I’ve been so horny it’s driving me crazy, at least at night when he’s asleep and I don’t have to worry about him anymore for a few hours. I’ve developed a very active fantasy sex life, and while that can be very satisfying it really does fall short, especially because Syd is just so good in bed. He’s got a lot of experience, and he knows exactly how to get me off, and his orgasms are so intense when he lets me give them to him. (He doesn’t really like me to get him off independent of penetration, though. He doesn’t always like having his cock stroked or sucked, so if there’s no penetration Syd doesn’t enjoy having his own orgasms. That took awhile to accept. I felt like there was something wrong with me, but that’s just who he is, I guess.) _

_So it would be really nice if we could get together and make love today, but I won’t push if he’s not into it. Sometimes he isn’t, and that can be a bummer, but I don’t resent him. He can’t help it: he’s sick, and he's also not very much of a sexual being to begin with. _

_We’ve been sitting in the garden now for about 10 minutes enjoying the sun, him pointing out every single bee and butterfly and musing on their colors and patterns just like he used to do before everything went wrong for him. A small red admiral butterfly has caught his interest now, its black and red coat with white spots fluttering around us like he’s a Disney princess who all sorts of little creatures just gravitate toward (and they do!). _

_“He’s quite pretty, isn’t he? I think I’ll call him Frederick. Frederick the Red and Black Butterfly. I think he likes to visit with his butterfly friends and drink tea and eat scones, and talk about art. What do you think?”_

_I love how he has such an expansive and limitless imagination, and I would love to listen to him go on forever about this beautiful little butterfly and his little butterfly friends, but I look into Syd’s face and he’s so beautiful still that the butterfly looks boring in comparison. He blushes when he notices me staring into his eyes._

_“You know what? That butterfly is really pretty, but you’re so much prettier than that butterfly.” _

_“Am I really?” _

_“Yes. You’re so much prettier than he is, especially your sweet eyes. Every look in your eyes is more beautiful than anything that butterfly ever had to offer.” His eyes shift to the grass where he surveys a daddylonglegs struggling to get to where it needs to go, and he smiles, and his cheeks flush. I run my fingers through his hair, or attempt to. “I’d like you to take a shower, okay? And then I’ll brush your hair and you can come lay down with me, and maybe we can make love?” _

_Syd turns toward me, leans in and kisses my top lip. He rubs his nose against mine before he pulls away, but then he kisses my forehead. I bury my hands in his hair and kiss along his jawline, letting my tongue graze his skin just a little bit. He shivers, and I reach down and stroke his thigh, only inches from his cock. I can feel him shifting a little bit, like he’s starting to get hard. _

_“I’ll go get in the shower now, then.” I kiss him once before he gets up and goes inside. I’ll sit on the bed and wait for him, and I’ll already be naked when he comes to the bedroom. _

_In about 10 minutes Syd comes to the bedroom with a brush in his hand. He looks me over, lying on my side with my hand drifting over my mound, and I see his cock stir. _

_“Not yet. I’ve got to brush your hair first. Sit down, baby.” He sits down in front of me, and I try as hard as I can not to hurt him because his hair is so matted that I don’t know if I can actually get all the knots out. His hair is in three sections: each section is one matted mess. I start on one section, gently pulling at the bottom of his hair, and making sure that I hold it at the root to lessen the pain and lessen the likelihood of pulling his hair out. He lets out a pained squeal as I make an attempt to untangle a knot._

_“Maisie, it hurts me when you do that. Can you please stop? I know my hair is messy, but I don’t want to be in pain if we are going to make love.” I throw the brush on the floor and pull him into me and stroke his hair._

_“Of course I’ll stop baby, I’m sorry.” He turns around and I reach for his cock, and although he says no at first when I move my hand away he begs me to please put it back, so I do. I can feel his cock growing in my hand as I lean forward and kiss and nibble on his neck, and he throws his head back and wraps an arm around my back. As he grows harder and bigger in my hand I stroke him, and with each touch he starts to jerk and moan until he’s lying down on his back and begging me to put his cock in my mouth._

_“Maisie, please, will you put me in your mouth? I’m so hard for you and it’s making me crazy.” That’s exactly what I want to hear: Syd begging for me to satisfy him. He knows I love it when he begs. _

_I lean down and leave a trail of kisses from his neck, down his chest and stomach and over his hip bones until I’m kissing up his shaft, and I slide my lips and tongue down his cock, and then up, and then around the head. His hips jerk back and forth, up and down, and his breaths are quick and shallow as his hand finds its way into my hair. I slide my lips and tongue up and down on his cock, letting him slip it deep into my throat as I play with his balls with one hand. _

_“Fuck,” he whispers. I love when he lets me suck his cock like this. I’m good at it, and I know I’m good at it, and it’s one of my favorite things to do for him. Syd doesn’t like to be masculine much, but I love it when he does. When he lets me suck his cock and play with his balls he knows it drives me crazy. _

_I can feel his cock jerking and pulsing as I slide my mouth down his shaft until I can feel the head of his cock pushing its way into my throat one more time. Before he cums I want him inside me, so I pull my mouth away, and I lie down._

_“Will you please make love to me now?” _

_“Can I lick you?”_

_“Yes, of course you can. After we make love…” _

_“Thank you, Maisie.” He crawls up to me, and I spread my legs to receive him. I wrap my legs around his back, and he uses his arms as leverage to force his way inside me. Every thrust I receive makes me feel alive. He’s so good at knowing exactly what speed and how much pressure will work best for both of us. As he thrusts deeper into me he grabs hold of one of my thighs and we stare into each other. “Wendy?” He whispers as he starts to thrust a little harder, and I dig my fingers into his shoulder. _

_“Yes, baby?”_

_“You’re my only love. You’re the only woman I can even see. Promise me you’ll stay with me forever?” _

_I kiss him so deeply I can feel the inside of his mouth with my tongue. When he pulls away he starts to move faster in and out of me until he pulls out, and I sit up and let him finish all over my tongue, and then I swallow everything he’s given me. _

_“I promise,” I whisper in his ear. “I’ll always love you and we’ll always be together, even after we die.” He pulls me down toward the bed and kisses my forehead and all around my face and neck, then down over my collarbone and over my breasts. _

_“Your turn, my Silly Whim.” He lets his tongue and lips linger over my nipples, and he nibbles them as he drifts from one to the other. As he licks and bites one nipple, he plays with the other with his fingers and I am in such ecstasy I’m kicking my legs and screaming. “Your nipples taste so good,” he whispers with a boyish giggle. His lips drift down my stomach and over my hip bones and he licks and kisses all around my thighs. _

_“Please lick me, baby,” I try my hand at a little begging. Maybe he’ll like it. He smiles up at me and opens my lips to push his tongue against my clit. I can’t believe how amazing this feels. He’s so much better than Roger ever was. I can feel his tongue flicking and circling me and he pushes one finger inside my pussy, and I’m kicking my legs and jerking my hips up and down. _

_“Don’t cum yet, please, Maisie? I don’t want to stop.”_

_“I can cum more than once, baby. Don’t worry about that.” He returns to licking me, and I move my mound up and down on his face, but he pulls away one more time._

_“Will you sit on my face instead, please? I think that would feel so much nicer for both of us.” _

_“Absolutely,” I say. I’ve never done this before, so I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. “But how do we…?”_

_“I lie down and you sit on my face. It’s just like it sounds.” _

_“Okay. But how will you breathe?” He giggles and pokes my nose._

_“Silly. I’ll figure it out.” He lies down, and I straddle his face and sit down on top of it. I can feel his face pushing against my pussy and my clit and I grind on it, hoping I don't suffocate him or have something else embarrassing happen. He grips my hips as I gyrate over him and forces his tongue between my lips right against my rosebud until I get that electric feeling I always get when he eats me. I can feel myself coming to orgasm when I lift myself up and let him flick his tongue against me, and I let out a loud moan as I feel myself flooding juices my prince obediently and enthusiastically drinks. I lift myself totally off of his face and sit back down onto the bed before I collapse in a satisfied heap. _

_"That was amazing, baby." Syd rolls over and we press our faces together. He's got a loving, adoring smile on his face, and I hope I'm returning the favor with mine. "I can't tell you how much I adore you, Syd. Everything about you. Everything from your imagination, and your smile and your innocence, your eyes, your laugh and your brilliance." _

_His eyes sparkle as they stare into mine, his pupils dilate and he leans forward to kiss my cheek._

_"I'm so lucky to have the love of a goddess like you." _

_"I'm the lucky one. I'm the one who's lucky to have the love of a beautiful boy like you." _

_We kiss once more before we both get drowsy and start to fall into a lazy afternoon nap. I hope my prince will still be here when I wake up. Not that he'd physically leave, but he might slip back into his other state when he wakes up. These moments with him make up for everything._

_"I want to be yours forever." _

_"You are. You will be." _

_"Please stay even though I'm sick. I'll get better."_

_"I'm here, and I'm staying."_

_I yawn one more time before I fall into sleep curled up beside him._


	84. Maisie  - Cambridge, February 2006 - Syd's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maisie is wistful thinking of David as she does every Valentine's Day, but she finds herself wishing for someone else's company when she never did before...

No matter what I'm doing, or who I'm with, I'm always down on Valentine's day. It reminds me so much of how lonely I am without David. Even when I was dating TJ (Tiffany...younger woman, huge mistake) and Sandra (older woman, not at all a mistake, I just was not ready for her), who were the closest I got to a serious relationship since David, I always felt the pain of being without him on Valentine's day. So now, being single it's quite a bit more lonely. I'm avoiding Syd a little today, but it's only because I don't want to burden him with my feelings. It's not fair to subject him to me pining for another man. It worries me that he might think I don't want to be with him, because it's really that I want to spare his feelings. 

I can't believe I ever left David. How could I have been so stupid? I walked away from the best man I've ever had when there was always a solution. I didn't really need to work, I could have just gone on the road with him more often, and we would have stayed together like Nick and Amelia have. 

David's married to this gorgeous younger former supermodel (not younger by all that much), and so I'm sure he's not even thinking about me today. I wonder if he ever thinks about me at all. My wish is that he does, but my gut feeling is not so optimistic. It's been 20 years, I'm sure he's over me by now. It wouldn't make any sense for him to still think of me when I was the one who left him all those years ago, and when he's found a much better woman than me anyway.

I haven't been so lucky. It sucks to go through this every Valentine's day. I've been alone in my bedroom for the past few hours with my book and some music on my mp3 player through my headphones. Admittedly, I'm listening to one of David's best guitar solos, and that song he wrote about us, but I may have uploaded some of Syd's songs before I left too, specifically the one he named after me. It's bringing a little brightness to my day to read and to listen to their art, but at the bottom of it all, I feel such a void where David should be, but isn't. Valentine's day was always so special for us. We used to make breakfast together, and then have sex after breakfast, and then we would spend the day doing absolutely nothing together. When it came time for dinner David used to take me to a nice place, and we'd have dinner usually in a private room, and share a dessert (he always ate more than me), and at night we'd make love again and stay up all night lying in the grass in his front yard looking at the stars. Every Valentine's day has been lonely since then. Every one. 

There's no harm in wallowing just for today. Syd knows that if he really needs anything he can always knock. I'd really rather be alone I guess, but it isn't nice to feel so lonely. I wonder how Syd is feeling. Maybe he would appreciate it if I went out to the living room and sat with him. I would, I do kind of want to, but I don't want to hurt his feelings. If he knew I was broken up over David he might feel hurt, and I can't deal with that. I care too much about him to put him in a situation like that.

I care for him. I'm finding as time goes on and we become closer to one another that I feel more and more safe with him. And not only that...I guess that sometimes when I'm with him it feels like I might be falling in love with him again. I'm so worried about it; I promised myself nothing was going to happen, but there's something in his eyes that I can't resist: a look, an adoring, trusting look that I don't ever want to get away from, a look that says volumes. He's so genuine, and sweet...so pure, lovely and alive. 

My heart's on fire for him, and it's shaking me to my core. It has been years since I've felt so alive and so completely alert and open...so intense and so weak. Weak is what I am. His genuineness, his innocence, the way that he has with animals (remember when I said he was a Disney princess? Syd is still a fucking Disney princess. He's always got some critter near him, most recently a porcupine, and always a butterfly). He has this infectious laugh and he feels so much wonder about so many things that I think are normal, like the way the clouds shift shapes. He seems to be made of joy and light, and it's been so long since I've felt like I had light in my life. 

Let's be honest…

I'm hurting myself by staying in here, but I'm so afraid of getting close to him because he's going to die. I'm scared to get attached because he's going to die sooner rather than later, and I don't want to deal with the grief. I don't want to have to feel heartbreak when I lose him, but can that be avoided anymore? What's the point of denying what I know I want? It's not like I have a very long time left (all things considered), and I want to give my heart away one more time, at least. 

What I promised myself I would want was to come here and enjoy a friendship, but what I really want is … him. All I want is him, just like back then when we were so crazy in love. When he's with me sometimes it feels like nothing else exists to me, like we are all alone together in the universe.

Fuck it. What I want this Valentine's day is to be with Syd, and I suspect that it's mutual. I think if I went out to the living room right now and sat with him we would both feel so relieved. I guess I'll go. It'll be good for both of us to not be alone today. And besides, why am I avoiding someone who I really want to be with? Sometimes I feel like I go out of my way to torture myself. 

When I open the door I find Syd right outside of it, and he jumps, startled because he most likely wasn't expecting me.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

"I was...going to knock and see if you'd come sit with me for awhile, maybe? I know that we aren't a couple,but I suppose I would really love your company today."

He was going to knock at the same time as I was going to come out to the living room anyway. It has to be a sign. When I decided to come here I had a gut feeling that I'd be happy if I came. So what if...can't you ever keep a promise to yourself? You promised yourself that you wouldn't get emotionally involved, and now here you are: yearning for him like you're 19 again, and he's a beautiful young boy who's swept you off your feet. But I'm not 19, and he's not a young boy, and I'm pretty close to cold inside. 

"I was just going to come out and sit with you because I'm also really wanting your...some... company." Syd smiles at me, and he holds his arm out for me to take. What a gentleman he is. I take his arm, and we move to the living room where we sit down on the sofa together. I don't let go of his arm at first; I think part of me doesn't want to let it go at all, in fact I know that part of me doesn't want to let his arm go. It's the same part of me that wants to be so close to him all the time that when I'm in his presence I feel like I'm shrinking every time he looks at me.

"You were lonely too?" 

"I was." I wish I had the nerve to lean over and kiss him right now, even just on the cheek, but I don't have the nerve. I'm too afraid of what that would mean. What would it mean, ultimately, for me to let myself feel what I'm feeling, and let him feel what I'm feeling? That's the important part, isn't it? That he can feel what I'm feeling, that he can know that the mere thought of him makes me feel weak inside, and that sometimes at night I drift into sleep wishing he was there with me? 

"Can I tell you a secret?" 

"Is it a bad secret?" Syd's eyes shine as he looks at me, and his eyes are an especially glowing, iridescent brown today and his smile lights up the entire room. I feel my heart fluttering when I see him looking at me like that. His face is so sunny and I love the way he smiles at me when I ask him if he has a bad secret, as if he could ever have a bad secret for me. 

"Not at all a bad secret, but I am afraid it might embarrass you so I thought it best to ask if you wanted to hear it." 

I think before I came here, or in the first few days to a week, that might really worry me, but the more comfortable we get the easier it is to hear things like this. And I am feeling comfortable, oddly enough. I'm feeling more comfortable here with him than I sometimes do at home with my friends. Not that I feel uncomfortable with them, but I just feel especially at ease with Syd around, like I don't have to worry about anything or anyone else. I realize I've been so busy getting lost in him that I haven't given him permission to tell me his secret yet.

"Try me.. I'd like to know." He reaches out for my hand, and I give it to him without a second thought. When we grasp hands he looks at me again, I can see a mischievous, but bashful smile on his face that is already driving me crazy (in a good way). My heart is beating so fast like it wants to break through my chest with every touch of his hand on mine.

"I have Valentine's Day cards for you. I think I have 10 of them. I've been buying or making you a card for Valentine's Day every year since you left, but never sending them because I thought it would be inappropriate. I would have all of them, but I burned them and now only have 10 left. Would you like them? I have one for this year… I actually made it last night."

My heart's melting. He made me a card and I didn't even get him anything. I was so caught up in worrying about David that I didn't even think to get or make Syd anything. I wish I'd thought of it: imagine the smile he'd have if I had gotten him a card or done something nice for him. What a missed opportunity.

"I…"

"I know you didn't get me anything, but I don't mind. You being here is the best Valentine's Day present I've ever gotten." He kisses my hand and gets up to go retrieve the cards from his bedroom. What can I do for him then? Now I would love to do something for him, but what? What would he like? He doesn't seem to put a lot of importance on material possessions so a present would probably not be the best idea. Maybe if I made him a nice dinner, or something like that, he might like that. Maybe if I wrote him a letter. I can't believe that I wasted today crying over a man who isn't here and who hasn't bothered with me when one who put himself on the line to call me and ask me to stay with him after 40 years is right in front of me, and I keep making up all these excuses, but the real truth is that I'm afraid of something actually working out. I'm terrified of being happy with someone else, and I'm terrified of having to grieve another loss...a loss I can't escape. If I really set my mind to it I might be able to find David again and we might be able to maybe have sex once before he felt wrong about it and cut me off, but Syd dying is a whole lot more permanent than David and I being broken up. It's a whole lot more permanent, and probably worlds more painful. In 20 years I'm still not over David but I could go out and find him anytime. Death is a different animal, something I haven't even begun to think about yet. Nonetheless, I'd be stupid to try and deny what becomes more and more obvious every day: I'm falling in love. Even my pain over David is less today than it was in years past, and maybe if Syd and I can spend the day together I might not even think too much of David. 

Syd hands me a stack of ten cards, six are handmade, and four are store bought. I open the one he made last night, but not before I look hard at the cover. It's obvious he's spent a ton of time on it, and it's hand painted with beautiful pink and red roses on the cover, with my name written in large cursive letters and "Happy Valentine's Day" right over it. Inside he's written me a short message:

_My Maisie,_

_Every Valentine's Day has been lonely until this one. You are my gift this year, so this is mine to you._

_Love  
Syd_

I look over the other cards, and stop at the one where he hand painted my tiger lilies. Even though I don't tell him, I am beyond touched to see them there: he remembered how much I love them even though it was all those years ago. I check the date: February 14th, 1999. Seven years ago. I wonder if he still remembers that I love those flowers as I open the card and read the message in that one:

_My Maisie,_

_I think of you all the time, and I miss you every day and night. I hope that today you are with someone who loves you as much as I do. _

_Love Always,  
Syd_

I look through each card and read each short, sweet message, and I can’t hold in my tears. All of them are one or two lines, very simple, and very bare bones. Just enough for a regular card. The way that he can say so much in so few words makes me even more giddy.

I have to do something for him now. It’s not even a matter of “having to”: I want to do something for him. Something that will make him feel as happy as I feel right now, but that isn’t overtly romantic, because I’m really not ready yet to do anything like that...I may not ever be ready. God, I wish I were ready…

I open my arms for him and we share a short hug; it’s shorter and friendlier than I’d like, but while I’m very free with my sexuality I am most decidedly not very free with my heart, and so I can’t give him what he wants right now even though it’s also what I want. Will I ever get there? Is it possible to avoid it now? It seems like at this point even if we didn't get back together I will mourn the loss and grieve for quite awhile.

“This is so, so sweet, Syd. Thank you. I’m going to put these in my bag and then I think we should figure out something to do together today. Would you like that?” His eyes light up when he looks at me like he’s a little kid and I’ve offered to take him to the toy store, and that makes my heart flutter again. Damn it. He can’t help but be fucking adorable all the time, I guess. 

“Yes, Maisie, thank you!”

“What would you like to do? I thought maybe I could make us a big dinner and maybe we could bake something for dessert together. I know you don’t really like to go out, and I don’t necessarily want to do that either because I think it’s a little impersonal, don’t you?” 

“Yes, I want to do anything that you want to do.”

“That’s not what I want to hear. It’s your day, too.” 

We went to the grocery store, and he asked me if we could make chocolate cake with strawberry icing for dessert, so obviously I said yes because his face when he asked me was so hopeful, so even though strawberry really isn’t my thing I had to say yes to him. He was so happy. And he was even happier while we were baking and cooking and I really just … god, I think I love him. I really, really think that I might be falling in love with him, and I hate it. I feel so out of control. It feels like I can’t keep my word to myself, like I can’t stick to my own boundaries that I set for myself, and I feel like a colossal failure. Gloria would be so pissed at me, but she also wouldn’t be surprised. She’s right, and she’s always been right: I am a fool for love, and this has been proven time and time again in my life, but this time it doesn’t feel like a stupid decision. It feels very much like it could be the right decision, and it’s scaring the shit out of me. What am I going to do? Should I tell him? Should I keep it to myself? Should I tell him that I need to go home so I can get away from this and go back to my normal life? I know I can’t do that one. One look in his eyes tells me I absolutely can’t do that one. I can’t leave him. Even if we aren’t going to be together I’m staying here until the end. He is too special for me to cut and run now. I’m not afraid of him, I’m afraid of falling in love again. It’s been 20 years since I could honestly say I was head over heels in love with someone else, and now that it’s happening it’s him...again... and I want to say it can’t be possible because of what he did, but he isn’t that guy anymore. I may not have ever left Syd if he hadn’t put me in the closet; I was fully intent on marrying him and spending our lives together. He was the only boy I could even see back then until David forced his way into my vision. What I want is to be with him, to be close to him, and it tortures me at night. I wonder if he knows how crazy I am driving myself over him.


	85. Syd - Cambridge, 1969 - Syd and Maisie's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Syd starts to get messages that he needs to protect Maisie, but from what and why? Though he's used to having people talk to only him this is a person he's never spoken to before. This person's insistence that he needs to protect his love could drive him to do something he doesn't want to do at all ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: This chapter contains things that may be offensive to anyone suffering from mental illness.
> 
> We have reached what I know a lot of my readers outside this website have been really, really curious about, and I'm sure some of you - the root of Maisie's PTSD, the closet scenes. Please, if these become too much for you, feel free to skip them, but don't drop the story because it goes far beyond this.
> 
> I will give you these two scenes today (Syd and Maisie), but from this week on I'm going to cut down to one chapter a week to draw out the suspense (as these are very critical chapters), but also to make sure I have enough material in the second volume to provide you with what I've been posting without running out.

_Whoever this is won't stop talking to me. He keeps telling me things are going to happen to me and to Roger and Maisie too. Especially me and Maisie. He keeps telling me that someone is going to take her away. A serpent, he says. He says a serpent is coming to take Maisie away, a serpent is after her. A serpent is waiting, he says. Waiting. Always waiting to strike at her. One day, this weird little man says, this thing will strike at her and hurt her and take her away from me. _

_Stuart: He's nearby. Always nearby, ready to strike. A green snake with a yellow belly and evil red eyes. Cold, steely red eyes like a demon. _

_But who is he? What's this you're going on about? A snake? Where is there a snake? I don't understand. We don't get many around here. What time is it where he is now? Is the sun out? Is he about in the grass?_

_Estella: Stop scaring the boy. He's fragile enough as it is. _

_Oh, that's the lady. Estella, her name is. She's a nice old lady. _

_Stuart: He needs to know that Maisie isn't safe. She's not safe because this serpent will always hunt her, and each day he gets closer. You need to protect her, Syd. If you don't protect her you will lose her forever, and you'll never forgive yourself. _

_But who is this serpent? What does he need from her? What can I do?_

_Estella: Stuart, I told you there's no reason to scare the boy. Why are you putting him under such stress? _

_Please, will one of you please tell me what I need to do to protect her from him? I don't know what to do. I can't lose her, she's my only one. I'll do whatever I have to do to make sure she's safe from whatever snake you're talking about. That stupid snake should only hurt me, and he should leave my Maisie alone. _

_Stuart: You have to make sure she's somewhere where she can't be seen and she doesn't leave. Only for now. If he can see her she's not safe from him._

_I have to hide her? _

_Stuart: Yes, you do need to hide her away. You need to make absolutely sure that she will not be seen until the serpent leaves you alone._

_Julius: Did you know that the fear of teeth is called odontophobia? _

_Stuart: Enough, Julius. _

_Estella: You both need to leave my sweet pumpkin alone, and his sweet girlfriend. Let them be in peace, won't you? _

_Stop bickering, all of you! How do I hide Maisie? I don't want her to get hurt at all. If she gets hurt I'll never forgive you, Stuart. It was rude of you not to introduce yourself, by the way._

_Stuart: My apologies. She won't be hurt if you put her in the supply closet, and there's no way the serpent could see her from there._

_Estella: He can't put her in there: it's too small, musty and uncomfortable. She would never be happy in there._

_I won't hurt my Maisie that way. I won't do it! She would be in so much pain in there, I never like for her to be uncomfortable. What about our bedroom?_

_Stuart: Only in complete darkness with the windows shut. It has to be the supply closet. I wish it were some other way, but you have a window in every room._

_So if I do this during the day, can I please take her out at night? I can't make her sleep in there. She'll get so sick and be in pain all the time. Let me bring her to our bed at night. _

_Stuart: You cannot, under any circumstances, let her get away at night then. You must hold onto her, and as soon as you wake up put her back, or she will be in danger. _

_Do you promise me this won't hurt her? I couldn't bear to hurt her, she's my beloved one. Don't make me hurt my girl, please?_

_Stuart: She won't get hurt, but no matter what she says you need to make sure she's protected, so you can't let her out until after nightfall and even then only for the bathroom and to sleep in bed with you. You're not going to hurt her because it's for her own good. _

_Are you sure though? I need you to promise me that she'll be safe the entire time. _

_Stuart: She will be safe, I promise you. And when the danger is gone you'll never have to do it again. _

_I'm afraid. She doesn't want me to do that to her. What if it makes her sad, or angry?_

_Stuart: It might, for the time being, but she'll understand. When it's all over she'll go back to normal. _

_What do I do, then? Should I tell her that she's in danger and that I have to hide her? _

_Stuart: You can tell her, but don't let her change your mind. She'll tell you this isn't real, but you know that it is. I wouldn't lie to you. Estella doesn't lie to you, does she?_

_Estella: Leave me out of this. I don't approve at all of this plan. Syd, sweetheart, you don't want to do that to your Maisie. She's been so good to you._

_Stuart: That's why he has to hide her, so she can continue to be good to him. _

_Fine, I'll do it. I'll do it tomorrow. Can I just enjoy my time with her today? I want her to be happy before I have to make her sad._

_Stuart: Yes, tomorrow is a good idea. I think that taking today for spending time together before you have to hide her for awhile makes a lot of sense. _

_Estella: I still do not approve of this at all. Julius, what do you think?_

_Julius: I think that the square root of 64 is 8, and that men with more chest hair are more susceptible to getting cirrhosis of the liver._

_Estella: Useless, as always. You are totally useless. We should be trying to help. _

_This is helpful, Estella. If Maisie is in danger then we have to make sure she's safe, and I guess Stuart is right that there's only one place for her to hide until the danger passes. _

_Now they’ve all gone away. Julius is an odd one, isn’t he? He makes me laugh. _

_What am I supposed to do? I find this all so frightening, and I feel so overwhelmed and nervous. Nothing makes sense. What does he mean, a serpent? A serpent who can see in the windows? What is he on about? He said that it would take Maisie away...I can’t let that happen. She’s all I have, for god’s sake. You know that! I know I don’t talk to you much, but you must know by now how much she means to me. Do you think that I could ever let anything take her away? She needs to be hidden away until the danger passes, but how will I know when the danger passes? Will Stuart tell me when the danger’s passed? At least he said that I could let her out at night, but I really don’t want to trap her. I really don’t like doing that. You know I really prefer her to take care of things. And I don’t want to do anything to hurt her, so why do I have to do this? It can’t be that bad, whatever it is, but Stuart seems to suggest otherwise. I don’t want to do this. She shouldn’t have to be trapped like that. I’m not a bad person, doing this to her, am I? I’m doing this to protect my princess so she doesn’t get taken away. This snake thing is going to hurt her, you know. That’s what Stuart said. You heard him. _

_I hope she can forgive me when I do this to her. Do you think she’ll forgive me? I really hope she can understand. You know I don’t want to hurt her. I really don’t. I’m not trying to hurt her, I’m trying to save her. To save us. _


	86. Maisie - Cambridge, 1969 - Syd and Maisie's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maisie begins to deteriorate physically, mentally and emotionally as she's put into a tragic and impossible situation by the one she loves. Will she ever escape? Will her life ever be the same again? Will anyone come to help? She can only think of one person that she'd like to come and help, but will he come?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, if you have any traumatic experiences tied to something like this and you think you may be triggered by it, feel free to skip it. The last thing I want to do with this work that you've been enjoying is hurt you with it.

_ **Day One-** _

_Something’s not right with Syd this morning. He’s been acting really strange, and he’s more off in his own head than usual. He barely even looks at me, and he won’t touch me. It’s like he’s guilt stricken, but I’m not sure why because he didn’t do anything wrong. Everything was fine last night. We spent the evening together, and he was as close to normal as he has been since our anniversary three months ago. We’ve been seeing a lot more of Roger lately, and I think that’s helped Syd to stay a little more sane (much to my chagrin), but since this morning he’s been such a black cloud, and I can’t even get him to say anything to me. Why won’t he talk to me? Did I do something wrong? I don’t understand this. It’s hard to keep in mind that Syd is sick sometimes and not take some of his behaviors personally, so I wish I were stronger and I could avoid it. He deserves better than that, I think. He deserves better than a girlfriend who makes everything about herself. I mean, at least I know I’m doing it. A lot of people probably aren’t even aware that they’re doing things like that. _

_I think I want to try and see what’s wrong. Maybe he’ll appreciate it if I try to help him feel better, so I approach him. He’s sitting on the sofa, slumped over, staring into space, and I think he hears me coming, but he never acknowledges me. It’s been awhile since he was this bad, and I don’t know what to do. Should I try to hold him or give him a kiss? When he’s in a really bad state sometimes all he wants is to be held. _

_“Hey baby,” I say as I slip my arms around his neck from the side. He leans his head into mine for a second, and I can hear him sniffling. He’s crying. Syd cries pretty often, but something about it is different right now. It starts out as soft tears that could go unnoticed by the untrained ear, but as I hold him tighter and kiss his cheek his cries grow into wails. _

_“Don’t make me do it,” he pleads, but he isn’t talking to me. _

_This happens sometimes, so I’m used to it. I know what this is, and I’m not afraid. Syd has never threatened or harmed me in any way, so I’m never afraid of him even when this happens. Some people might be afraid, but I’m not. I know my baby better than anyone. It's the people he can hear, but that I can't. I wish he'd go to a doctor._

_“There’s nobody there, sweetie. It’s just me and you in here right now, okay? I’m here, nothing is going to hurt you or me. I love you, my Peter.” _

_His sobs grow stronger, more desperate, more pleading as he clings to me with a fierceness I’ve never felt from him before now. I’m starting to get worried. If this keeps going on I guess I’ll call Roger. Every time Syd gets upset Roger is the only one who can calm him if I can’t do it. I could still calm him now, I think, if he will listen to me. _

_“Don’t make me do this, please. It has to be a mistake. Please.” _

_I still don’t know who he’s pleading with, and I’ve never seen him this upset before. I’m going to call Roger. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do, and I think maybe Roger could help since I can’t seem to. Every time I touch him it seems to just make him worse, and I don’t know why because I’ve usually been able to help. _

_“I’m going to call Roger. I’ll be right back. Stay right there, baby. Don’t worry. It’s going to be fine.” I stand up and walk toward the phone, which is by the wall next to the closet where we keep all our cleaning supplies, and as I pick it up to dial Roger’s number I can feel Syd standing behind me. When I turn around to look at him and see what he wants, I notice this look in his eyes: this strange, desperate look that I've only seen a few times now that he only gets when he's under extreme stress. He takes the phone from me, and he slams it down on the receiver. "Baby, what's…" I start to spit words out, but he grabs me and pulls me tight against him. I look up into his eyes: his dead, soulless eyes, and I'm beginning to quake with fear as they stare back into mine, a fear that I've never had of him. "What is it…?"_

_He pulls me in for a kiss, and it's a deep, loving kiss, the kind of kiss you give the one you love before you say a long goodbye. I submit, flustered and almost hoping that maybe this is him sort of trying to find his way back to normalcy for the time being. When he pulls away from me, I can see his hand reaching for the door of the supply closet and before I realize what's happening he gives me one more kiss and pushes me in._

_"I love you, Maisie. I'm so sorry."_

_I let out a pained wail as my back hits a shelf, and as I'm just beginning to register what's going on, Syd slams the door on me and I can hear him locking it from outside. I rub my back, trying to lessen the pain from the impact, and when I have finally taken stock of what's just happened, it's too late. I'm already locked in. What's he done, and why's he done this? _

_I'm banging on the door like a madwoman, screaming and crying and sobbing, and he won't relent. Is this what he was begging whoever he was talking to not to make him do: lock me in a closet? But why would my baby do this to me? He's never laid a hand on me in an aggressive way before. Syd has never been anything but loving, kind and docile. I don't understand._

_"Baby, please let me out! Syd, baby, please! Please, Syd, let me out of here, baby." _

_"I can't, Maisie. I'm sorry. Please don't cry anymore, it's not forever. It's only until the serpent stops hunting you." _

_What? A serpent hunting me? He's been having some kind of delusion about me getting hurt, and that's why he's done this, isn't it? I'm terrified of him right now, and it's the worst. I've never been afraid of him. _

_"Baby, that isn't real! I'm fine. Nobody is after me, you know that. I'm okay. Please, let me out of here." _

_No answer. Nothing. He won't even answer me, but I can tell he's sitting right outside the closet door because I can see his body blocking what little light was leaking through from under the crack between the door and the hardwood floors. I keep banging, right where the back of his head would be, hoping to convince him to please let me go. I'm 20 years old now, and I've been through some difficult things before in my life,but nothing like this. Nothing ever like this. I've seen my mom strung out on all kinds of pills, and caught my dad with his male lover, but none of that is anything compared to this. _

_I keep pounding my fists on the door, desperate for a response, hoping if I don't let up he'll tire of the noise and open the door, but he never does. _

_"Syd, please! Baby, let me out. I promise I will come right to you, and we can work it out. I swear, we won't have anything bad happen to us. Nothing will happen to me, either. I'm okay. I'm only upset because I'm locked in here. If you let me out we will be fine, I promise I'm not angry."_

_Nothing, still._

_Nothing. _

_Hours go by, and I have about given up on banging on the door for now because he won't respond to me. I'm so hungry and thirsty and I've been crying so much that my head is starting to pound. I've never been this afraid of anything or anyone. The only things going through my mind right now, really, are what exactly happened here, and how do I stop it? And if I can't stop it, how long will he leave me in here? Am I going to get to eat or drink or use the bathroom? Will anyone come to check on him and discover me in here, and what happens if they do? _

_I start pounding on the door again, my screams and sobs are so loud I don't understand how someone hasn't called the police. Are people just so used to weirdness coming from Syd's house now that they ignore it? I'm screaming my head off in here. Someone has to have heard me. There's no way that I'm being quiet enough for my wails to be missed by anyone. _

_Please, somebody. Anyone, help me. Get me out of here. Please. I'm beginning to feel desperate. My back is killing me from colliding with that shelf, my head is pounding, I'm freezing and I'm so dehydrated I think I might vomit, but my stomach is so empty nothing would come out...I didn't even get to have breakfast this morning, and he hasn't eaten anything all day either. I know he's been sitting in front of the door all day and hasn't moved. That isn't too out of character for him, to sit in one spot for hours without moving. _

_Finally, he opens the door. He looks so sad, but I'm afraid. It looks like he doesn't want to do this, so why is he? _

_ **Day Two** _

_Last night was bizarre._

_Syd let me out of the closet after the sun went down and I drank some water, thank god. He wouldn't let my arm go, though. He held my hand from the closet to the cabinet to get a glass, to the sink to pour water, and after I finished the water from the kitchen to the bedroom. _

_The bedroom was strange, too. I couldn't see anything. He hung throw carpets over the windows, I discovered this morning. It was so pitch black that we tripped on our way into bed, and that made him panic because he thought he'd lost his grip on me, but I'm too tired to run, anyway. _

_You can say I should have found a way to run, but I really couldn't find it in myself. It occurred to me, but at the moment when I could have possibly run I couldn't summon the will. It was like I didn't even see the point of trying. Maybe I didn't even really want to. It has to be, right? If I wanted to run, I could have. Maybe I didn't want to. Maybe I know that this will end someday, and my baby will come back. Won't he? _

_"I can take you out at night, but I'm sorry I can't let you go. It's the only way to make sure you don't get taken away." _

_He held on to me all night, and I barely slept. Maybe I slept for a half hour or so? I don't remember. I don't really know what was sleep and what wasn't._

_I cried all night, and he comforted me, but I didn't feel comforted. I felt...blank. numb. His kisses and hugs and attempts at sweet words weren't enough to get me to feel anything. Normally, that would fix any bad mood, but not this. This is a whole new level of sadness and desolation for me. _

_That's kind of how I feel now: numb. Blank. Spent. Shriveled. Alarmed by any kind of light that filtered in through the curtains and around the throw rugs this morning. Out of range. Disassociated. Out of control._

_Nothing to eat since yesterday._

_I've been in here for what seems like a century. Imagine having no real, concrete idea what time it is. I think I've spent about 80% of my time banging on the door for Syd, pleading with him to take mercy on me and let me out. Making promises. Trying to soothe him, to convince him this isn't real, but he won't respond to me most of the time. He sits outside the door crying, but he's resolute. He knows what he has to do. That might be the scariest part of all this._

_ **Day Three ** _

_Everything is starting to bleed into everything else. Daytime is the same as nighttime. One day is the same as the next. What day is it now? I don't know. How long has this been going on? I don't know. How much did I actually sleep last night? I don't know._

_I don't know._

_That's really what's at the center of this: I don't really know what's going on here. I have no idea what he means going on about a snake hunting me. There's no snakes looking through our windows ever. He isn't in his right mind, and he doesn't know what way is up, I'm afraid._

_How am I supposed to get out of here, and can you believe I'm going to say this? Get ready, this is a real good one. This is how you can tell I'm going crazy in here:_

_I'd give anything for Roger to come over right now. Syd never locks the front door if I don't lock it. He forgets about it. Roger could just come walking in, and he'd hear me screaming, and he'd make sure Syd let me out. He'd help Syd understand why what he thought he was hearing isn't real. Roger could get Syd to calm down, and then he'd let me out, and this would all blow over. We could put it behind us. If only Roger were here..._

_I still haven't made any attempt to run. Mostly I just bang on the door all day like a helpless idiot. I am a helpless idiot, apparently. You're probably very angry at me for not running, but I can't make my body work to run. My brain really will not send the message to my body to move to run away. Is nobody wondering about me, or about him? Where's Roger, or Nick? Why haven't they noticed? _

_It feels like no one actually cares much about me, because if they did they'd notice that they hadn't heard from me for a long time, and they'd come over to check on me. I think I've been here for two nights because Syd has pulled me into bed with him twice, but what if my counting is off? I don't feel like I can trust my own judgment._

_I'm so hungry, and even though I get water at night I'm so thirsty, too. Syd hasn't let me have anything to eat. I don't know why. I ask him and he says no. He's afraid that the serpent is poisoning all the food. I don't know. That's my guess. _

_The smell in here makes me sick. I've gagged so many times in here, you have no idea. It smells so musty, but also the cleaning chemicals each have their own distinct odor that can't be mistaken for something else. Overall, things mostly just smell like "clean" in here. Yeah, that's it. It smells clean, but the clean smell also gives me a headache._

_I've had a headache this entire time, and it won't go away. _

_ **Day Four** _

_It occurred to me again last night to run, but I didn't. By now the situation seems so hopeless I don't see the point in running. It's not like it'll work. I think if I really tried I might be able to make it, but I'm so tired and so starving that I don't even know if I would make it to the door before I collapsed. I feel so weak and so dizzy from the sleep deprivation and water and food deprivation that I might collapse in here. Maybe I have already. Is it possible that I've passed out and I don't know? It certainly doesn't make sense how much time passes while I'm in here, and the only indicator I have of the time of day is that I know it's night when Syd opens the door and takes me to the bathroom (which I don't really need to use), lets me drink water, and takes me to bed. _

_I don't bang on the door or scream as much anymore. Not like what I was doing. It doesn't seem to do anything. He never relents, and he barely responds even though he's always in front of the door. How has he made it this long without eating? I'm so hungry I'm nauseous all the time. Why is he ignoring me? I don't understand what's happening anymore. He doesn't talk about the serpent anymore. He barely even talks at all when we are in bed together at night now. He only apologizes and tells me how much he loves me, but can I believe that anymore? This isn't something you do to someone you love, or is it? If you really think something is going to hurt them, isn't this exactly what you would do? Would I do this for him? I don't know that I would. Even if he were in danger I wouldn't want him to suffer like this. I'd make sure he was fed and I wouldn't make him stay in one dark room all day by himself, that's for sure. You know I wouldn't do it to him. I would never! I thought he knew I tried my best to always take the best care of him, and to always do what was right for him._

_I'm not suffering alone, am I? I'm not eating, but Syd is also not eating. I don't get to go anywhere, but he also never goes anywhere. I have no light, but he also barely has any. Very little light comes in during the day, I can tell. He must have throw rugs or towels blocking all the windows, but if that's true then why can't I come out? If nothing can see in during the day shouldn't I be able to come out of here? I don't want to be in here anymore, and I wish that mattered to him._

_Now I'm banging again, but this time I'm banging my head on the door because maybe if he hears that's what is going on it'll scare him into opening the door and ending this so I can finally be free. I've tried so many different things, but nothing works. Nothing. Nothing at all. I wish somebody would come over. _

_"Syd!" I scream with all the energy I have left, which is very little: "Syd, please!" My voice is a faint, cracking shadow of its former self. In fact, it's barely working. I think it hardly qualifies as a voice in general because I can't use all of it, just enough to screech. And a pathetic screech it is. "Syd, baby, please!!!" I don't know if I still know how to say anything else except these words. I haven't really said much of anything else, you know. What is there to say? I can't talk about the weather because I don't know what the weather is. _

_My banging and screaming has finally paid off: Syd opens the door. Oh, my god, I'm going to get out! He's really going to let me out of here! I thought maybe it was nighttime already, but I can see some sunlight flooding around the towels that are blocking the curtains. So it’s not nighttime, and it might be time for me to come out. Thank god. This ordeal can be over._

_Oh. No. Never mind. Syd is coming in here with me. I got myself all worked up with the hope that this might finally stop, but it’s all been dashed in one second, one measly second. _

_I could run now. The door isn’t locked. I could open the door and run right out into the street and call for help and get him taken to a hospital. It would be easy, wouldn’t it? I start to ready myself to run while the door is open, but as if he’s anticipating it Syd grabs me and pulls me close to him._

_“He said I could come in here with you instead of sitting outside the door all day, but you can’t leave, Maisie, okay? I really don’t want to hurt you. Please understand I wouldn’t do this ever, but it’s an emergency. You are in a lot of danger.” _

_“I wouldn’t do this to you, Syd. I’d never, ever do this to you.” Well, at least I know I can get a few more words out now. _

_“Someone’s going to take you from me, Maisie. If I let you out before it’s safe you could get taken away, and you might get hurt, and I’d be lost without you. I won’t let anyone take you away. Please, try to understand, Maisie, I’m doing this for us. I know that it hurts now, but it won’t be this way forever, and I’ll make it up to you when it’s done. Please...I can’t lose you.” _

_No one is coming to take me away, Syd. It’s been a very long time now, and no one has come here. No one’s coming for me. I’m stuck here until I can summon the will to fight or until he decides to let me out. If someone was going to come here for me they would have done it already, wouldn’t they? Someone, if they had cared about me at all, would have come here, and they would most certainly have heard me. I have to be so loud you can hear me from outside. Why hasn’t anyone called the police or come here? Why do I matter so little to everyone? Nick is my best friend here, and he hasn’t even called or come to check on me. He didn’t care enough to do it, and what about Amelia? Where’s Amelia? Why hasn’t Amelia stopped over? _

_Is it possible that I haven’t been in here as long as I think I have?_

_If Nick or Amelia won’t come, why hasn’t Roger? If not for me then for Syd. _

_Why isn’t anyone coming? _

_This won’t ever be over, will it? I’m never getting out of here. All those people in the band circle I thought cared about me, they don’t actually care. My family hasn’t bothered trying to reach out to me since I disappeared two years ago with the exception of my mother and father because I have called them and told them where I was. Victoria hasn’t really wanted to see me much lately because I’m so caught up in Syd that I’m not fun anymore, so it makes sense that she wouldn’t come here. What must Gloria be thinking? I haven’t written to her in … I don’t even know how long anymore. It might be a really, really long time. She must be worried. I wonder if my parents ever do worry about me. What do you think? _

_Syd is holding me so tightly that it hurts me. My ribs ache, and I can’t get comfortable in any position. In fact, I have forgotten what it feels like to be comfortable. I have forgotten what it feels like to feel full, to feel hydrated, to feel well rested. All of the times in my life that I have felt all of those and taken them for granted feel like very, very distant, unreal memories now. _

_“Please…” I utter one more desperate whimper. He kisses my forehead, and a heavy sadness sets in: the kisses of the boy I love used to bring me so much comfort, but now I feel so empty and cold when he kisses me. I felt so at home in his embrace during that time: when things were good, when Syd was alive, and when we were so happy we wanted to tell every single person in the entire world how much we loved one another. What happened to my beautiful Peter Pan? _

_I don’t want to talk anymore. I think I’m running out of things to say, or out of thoughts to think. I don’t see what the point of thinking is; all I’ve been doing is thinking, and it’s left me in a very bad place, so maybe I should try to stop thinking altogether. Maybe if I stop thinking, and stop feeling, and stop trying to figure out anything at all like why no one loves me enough to come here and find out why they haven’t heard from me at all ...maybe if I do all that I can make it through this. And then eventually I’ll die of starvation or lack of sleep, and then it will finally be over._

_I hate you, Syd. I wish I never met you. I don’t really feel that way, why am I lying to myself? I don’t hate you. I never did, and I never will. I can’t. I am incapable of hating you, but I am so angry. I am so, so fucking angry right now that I wish I could. _

_I’m sorry. I know you want to know how this ends, but I can't say anything else._


	87. Roger - Cambridge, 1969 - Outside Syd and Maisie's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger throws himself a pity party before going to find help for the two people he loves most. His desire to be self sacrificing could end up being a turning point in his life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the start of one chapter a week. I hope you got through those two scenes okay, and skipped them if they were too much.

_It's been a few days since anyone's heard from Syd or Maisie, and I tried to phone this morning, but the line had been cut. It's best to come check on them, isn't it? Who knows what could be going on in there. If he's hurt her I'm going to make him suffer, and then I'll run off with her. Besides that if anything serious has happened it's best that someone finds out about it, and it's possible that no one's found out anything yet. I'm just concerned because it's been a long time, and she could be hurt or in some kind of trouble. And god, what must be happening to my beloved friend? He must be in so much pain...I should have come here for him. I'm so sorry, Syd. I love you so much. _

_All the windows are shut, and so are the curtains. It looks like there might even be something hanging over the curtains to keep the light out. This is out of the ordinary, very out of the ordinary. I try to see something, anything, through one of the windows into the living room, but it's impossible. _

_Is that screaming? I could have sworn I heard some kind of screaming coming from in there. I jiggle the door handle in a sudden panic, and it's unlocked, so I open the door and what I hear is beyond anything I could have imagined was going on. Maisie is screaming, whimpering, and pleading, and her muffled voice seems to be coming from inside the supply closet near the kitchen. She's banging on the door and begging Syd to let her out, but Syd isn't saying anything, or letting her out. He's sitting, catatonic, in front of the door and ignoring her._

_I am more enraged than I've been in years, and it's coursing through my blood. My head is fucking pounding, my ears ringing, and and I'm ready to fucking barrel in there, beat the shit out of him and pull her out of that awful prison he's had her in for god knows how long. I get lost in a bit of a fantasy before I act: a fantasy where I carry Maisie out of Syd's house, Syd lying in a heap on the floor, and she buries her head in my chest while I carry her out the door like a man carrying his bride over the threshold, relieved by finally feeling safe again. Then she looks up into my eyes and she can see in them that I adore her, that I'm the right man for her, and that no one else can love her like I can. She squeezes me, grateful for my protection, and I carry her home... when I drop her on my bed she lies with her arms gracefully and helplessly draped above her head: she's begging silently for me to get into bed with her and hold her until all of her fear passes. And I do: I pull her close into my chest, and I let her cry for awhile until I kiss every single tear away, and I whisper to her, "I won't ever let anyone hurt you again. You're mine now." And she wilts, submitting to my love and desire, and from that moment on knows she belongs to no one else, and that all she wants is to be with me. Maybe I'll quit the band and we'll run off together, that way David will never get to look at her again, and I won't have to worry about him stealing her from me. _

_My fantasy ends, and my heart comes crashing to the floor, and I come back down to earth and realize that Maisie really hates me, and she won't be happy to see me anyway. Even though she's been cordial, even friendly, when I've been around for Syd... I'm not an idiot, and I can see it in her eyes that I'm nothing to her: I'm the equivalent of shit on the bottom of her shoe, and when she's in this much peril the last person she will want to see is the person she can't stand. I don't want to make her feel worse. It tears me apart to walk away, and to be unable to be her hero, but I don't want her to feel bad in any way when she gets out of there. She deserves to feel safe, and to feel relieved and be able to relax knowing her ordeal is over, and I think seeing me will just make her feel worse. I can feel the tears (which I expected) waiting in my eyes to fall at the right moment as soon as I'm out of view of anyone else. I was supposed to be the one to save her. I was supposed to be the hero, the man that carried her away and swept her off her feet and won her love. It can't be me, though, and that tortures me. It should be me. It's supposed to be me. _

_Who should I send? I'd ask Nick, seeing as they're very close, but he's in London this afternoon with Amelia at her mother's. I wouldn't send Rick into a situation like this because he's too weak and noodly anyway. Looks like it's either me, or … David._

_Well now ... this is a problem. If I go, she'll be unhappy, but if I send David…_

_If I go and get David it might end in them getting together, and then what am I going to do? That will be miserable. At least when she was with Syd I wasn't having to see it every time I played music anymore. If she's with David I'll have to see them together and in love all the time. By the same token though, if she's with David I won't have to follow her that much, and I'll see her all the time. It might end up being that if David and Maisie are together their union would be beneficial for me, as well. _

_I can't do it. Go by myself, I mean. I can't go busting in there to save her. It's got to be David: that's the only way she's going to feel safe, and the only way to make sure I don't have to beat up my best friend. I wish it could be me, though. Imagine if I could be the one to walk triumphantly out of that shithole carrying my beautiful damsel in distress in my arms, inspiring feelings of love in her heart for me, her prince. As it stands, however, I'm the last person she wants to carry her off, and so David will have to do._

_When will Maisie finally realize she belongs to no one else but me? And why in the fuck didn't I come here sooner? If I had come here two days ago like David asked me to I could have made sure she was out of there already, and that Syd was safe and calm. This is all my fault. I should have been here for them sooner, and they wouldn't have been in so much pain. It kills me, thinking of how much she must be suffering stuffed in that tiny closet all alone. It kills me, but it really makes me fucking angry more than anything else. I knew it was a bad idea for her to get involved with him. Why couldn't she have stayed with me? None of these things would have happened to her if she had just stayed with me and let me love her, let me keep her. Some might say she's done this to herself. Not me, though. If it were another guy in there hurting her, and not my best friend, that guy would be dead already._

_It's best not to tell David I've been here. He would wonder why I didn't go in there myself. _


	88. David - Cambridge, 1969 - Syd and Maisie's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: Mild violence, ableist language
> 
> David, sent by Roger to investigate what's going on at Syd and Maisie's house, shows up ready for a fight if he needs to have one, but will it come to that?

_I just slammed my fucking car door and I'm fucking driving to Syd's...I might need to fucking get away fast. I slammed the door and now I'm blasting The Beatles to keep myself from coming unglued and causing a gruesome accident. I'm going to rip that mother fucker's head clean off his body if she's in any danger. I'm ready for a fight because I have a feeling there's going to have to be one._

_Alright, I'm finally here. God, I've got such an adrenaline rush like it's just pumping through me, and I'm marching to the front door like a fucking caveman ready to take out a sabertooth tiger, or something . Thank god the door is unlocked, I was gonna have to break it down if it weren't. At this point if I go in there and everything's fine I'm going to have to leave so I don't hurt him anyway I'm so angry. I can hear that desperate screeching and banging now, and it's coming from a closet. Jesus Christ, she's in the closet in the other room. This is disgusting. I practically stomp my feet through the floor lumbering in there. _

_"You let her the fuck out of there, Syd! Right now!" I see him sitting against the door like he's holding it shut, this awful ghoulish nightmare with matted patches of black hair in his face, his eyes like soulless rocks. Before I can even stop to think I toss him aside like fucking garbage and I bang his demented head into the floor maybe two or three times. He's screaming "NO" over and over again. "Fuck you!" I scream in his face "What do you think you're doing, huh? What do you think you're doing to her? What's wrong with you?" _

_He's in a heap when I stand up, and I kick him away down the hall until he's out of the way enough for my liking, and I unlock the closet door. _

_There's that surge of adrenaline that was eating me earlier. The door almost comes off the hinges, I think it did a little bit, I can't be sure. It slams into the wall, and I'm sure it left a hole in it. God, if you could see her right now... she's so pale and disheveled...she looks like she hasn't slept or eaten. Her eyes are sunken in, and her hair matted in a knot behind her head. Skin sallow, voice cracking. She's a mess: a sobbing mess. _

_Oh, fuck this._

_I scoop her shaking body up and throw her over my shoulder, and we are getting the fuck out of here. Syd comes to, and he's crawling along the floor like a fucking octopus on all fours over to where I am about to rush out the door with her and never let this happen again. Somebody else can worry about him, and I don't care who it is. _

_"Maisie!" He whines like a god damned baby. _

_He's such a child; I can't handle his inability to grow the fuck up and get himself a fucking doctor. "Bring her back, David! Bring her back, please! Maisie, don't go! Don't go... please…" _

_The cries get progressively more desperate the closer to the outside I get. _

_"I'll wait for you, Maisie. You're my only one, my only love! I'll wait for forever for you…"_

_ And it goes on, but I'm already out the door. Maisie's pleading with me to bring her back. She really wants to go back, but that's too bad...I'm not going anywhere near that house or letting her go near that house ever. _  
.  
"I'm not going to do that. You won't be coming back here. I couldn't live with myself." I set her down in the front seat of my car, and we are on the road now on the way back to Roger's. No radio this time. She needs quiet right now. 

_"Th-thank you, David," she mutters through hyperventilating and tears. _

_She leans on the window, despondent, and watches the houses go by, amazed by the daylight, but then shields her eyes from it. It must be a bit painful, being exposed to the light after days in darkness. Even when she's such a mess I can't help but think that she's so god damned beautiful, and there's still a little bit of fight left in her: I know it._

_"Don't thank me. I'm sorry I didn't discover this sooner. I came the other day, but no one answered and the door was locked. I wouldn't have handled this any other way." _

_Finally at Roger's, I lead her out the car door and into the apartment. Roger's eyes go wide when we walk in and catch his eye. They're horrified, his eyes. He has never looked this way… He's white as a ghost and shaking either with rage or with fright. The sight of her has him spooked, and I can see it in his face: he wants to be the one to have carried her out, but he has an ulterior motive, I suspect. _

_"My god, what's happened?"_

_"Syd had Maisie trapped in the closet. I'm going to sit her down here. She needs to eat and sleep and shower, so let's make something to eat, and when she's ready she can shower, and then nap for awhile." _

_He looks her over, and I can still see the fear and horror in his face. It looks like he was moving to reach for her, but he pulled his arm away before it became obvious. I'm glad Cora isn't here. She still has no idea how I think Roger feels about Maisie, and that's because Roger has been very smart about keeping her away from anywhere where Maisie is. It can't last forever, though._

_Maisie and I sit down on the sofa, and she curls up into herself, her breath still quick and caught in sobs. I'm sitting closer to her than perhaps is polite, but she needs it, I can tell. Her head is buried between her knees and her massive clump of hair is hanging forward over them. _

_"David, please stay." _

_Her voice, shaky and raspy, comes barely audible to me, but I know exactly what she's saying. She wants me to stay with her. She feels safe with me here. That's what you want to feel as a man, like your girlfriend is safe with you, right? Did I just call her my girlfriend? Jumping the gun a bit, aren't we?_

_"Of course I'll stay." I watch Roger as Maisie asks this of me, and I've never seen him look so dejected and sad. He stares down at the floor, his eyes downcast, but looks up at her every few seconds (probably to check if she's bothering to look at him… she isn't). I think he's jealous. I think he wants to be doing what I'm doing right now, and he's angry that he isn't. You had your chance, man. Back off. "Would you mind fixing her something to eat and getting her some water?" _

_His eyes narrow to slits, and he sets his mouth in a thin line, clearly displeased. Eugh, his fucking face. Can't tell if he's angry with me or trying to conceal pain. Can't say I care all that much, either._

_"No, I don't mind at all." _

_Roger slithers off into his kitchen. What a creep. He's being a little bit too rough with his cabinets in there. Yeah, good way to help the girl calm down, Mr. Ed: sudden loud noises, specifically a door slamming. She didn't just get out of being stuffed in a closet, or anything. Just as I thought she might, Maisie jumps when she hears a cabinet slam shut, and I steady her._

_"Hey, it's alright. That was just Roger in the kitchen. He's angry at Syd, that's all." _

_Angry at me too. Angry that he didn't find her first too, I'd be willing to bet. Roger comes back with a bowl of soup he heat up on the stove, and a glass of water in the other, and he hands them both to me. I pat Maisie on the back and she raises her head to look into my face with her wide, terrified, swollen eyes and her dry, cracked lips...her two best features, and he tried so hard to ruin them. The way her eyes are so puffy and her cheeks stained breaks my heart. I pass the bowl and glass to her, and I see her actually look at Roger, for once._

_"Thank you." _

_It's been some time since I've seen Roger smile, as he's usually either angry at someone or staring at the floor with his hair in his face (but you'd think he's quite charismatic on stage: that would be a finely crafted role he acts, mask he wears), but he's smiling now watching her watch him. She looks down before she notices him looking at her right in her eyes. I've never watched another man become so quickly invisible._

_"You're welcome. I'm sorry, Maisie. I should have come over." _

_"It's okay. It isn't your fault." _

_Imagine making a woman reassure you after having gone through something like this. What kind of a selfish asshole does that? Roger does, of course._

_"Still, I can't bear it that this has happened to you." _

_The first thing she does is guzzle the entire glass of water, and as soon as she finishes it Roger takes the glass from her. Maisie eats her soup like she's ravenous; she shovels the spoon into her mouth with a fury. I wonder how long it's been since she's eaten or drunk anything. I look over at Roger again, his eyes intent upon her, and decide I really don't care what he's thinking. She needs my attention, not him. _

_"When you're done eating you should take a shower."_

_"I don't...I don't have anything to wear." _

_.If I had extra clothes I'd offer them to her in a second, but I don't. The one time I don't, too. Damn. Roger's just had a sneaky little lightbulb go off in his head, hasn't he? He's very cunning; he'll figure out how to disarm you and then move right in for the attack. Don't ever trust a word out of his mouth, and I'll say it on my deathbed, too. _

_"You could borrow some of my clothes. I know they'll be big on you, but it's something until we figure out where you're going, and I can go get your things from Syd's house."_

_"You don't have to do that."_

_"I'm the only one he trusts, so yes I do. It's not a problem. I'm not afraid of him." _

_.Maisie's still eating, and she hasn't stopped eating for a second: it's incredible. She must have been locked up for a long time. When she's finished Roger takes the bowl from her, tries to connect with a smile, gets rejected and then leaves to go find some clothes for her to wear. I look over at her, and she's so broken and sad I want nothing more than to make that stop somehow, but how is the question. How does one help somebody like this? I don't care what it takes, she's not going to ever see that scum again for as long as I have anything to do with it._

_"You're gonna be alright, Maisie. We are going to figure out where the safest place for you to go is, but no matter where you go he's not going to be a problem for you anymore. I'll make sure of that." _

_"You're such a good friend, David. Thank you." _

_There's that word, the one I've heard way too often from girls I've liked: "friend". That's alright if she doesn't see me in the same way, but maybe she could in time. Roger returns with a shirt and some pants for her, and he hands them to her, still with that smile on his face, but again she doesn't notice him. She turns toward me and I see a small smile on her face now: not enough of one for it to be a real, happy smile, but enough to show her gratitude. _

_"I'm going to shower now, I guess." Now she turns to look at Roger again. "Thanks." _

_He nods in return, the nod guys give each other, the multipurpose nod we use so we don't have to physically speak. He's embarrassed, and he's hurt._

_About a half hour later, Maisie emerges from the shower: the skin on her face plump, hair clean and brushed. Her body's clad in one of Roger's black t shirts and a pair of his pajama pants, both which are hanging off of her and giving her this really cute kind of innocence that I am most definitely fascinated by, and our normally disgruntled and unphased bassist is also. I can feel my heart beating a little faster as she returns to sit next to me on the sofa, and this time it's she that gets too close to me. _

_"You know, Maisie, if you want to nap you can use my bed. I don't mind." _

_What game is he trying to play? I mean, I guess since we haven't decided what to do about her living situation it's best to let her sleep, but I can't help but feel that he isn't doing this for the sole reason of being a kind person. Whenever he does something nice for someone there's always something in it for himself. He wants her scent in his bed, I bet. He wants to sleep next to the spot she was in, doesn't he? Yeah, join the club, arsehole._

_I don't protest because really, there's no actual reason to. I have no way to prove that he has malicious intent, and she does need to sleep, anyone could tell. He gets up to lead her to his bedroom, but I follow, and I let her lean into me a bit, even though it's difficult not to blush and act like a fool. He pulls the covers down, and she climbs in...I move to pull the covers up over her, and I do, but he's on the other side trying to do the same thing. I don't care. She only noticed it when I did it, and her eyes are as lit up as one would expect them to be, meaning not very much... only enough for the two of us to know._

_"We're gonna let you nap for as long as you need to, so don't worry about anything." _

_"Thanks, David. You're being so kind." I smile at her, and I see everything I want in a girlfriend, but only when she's ready. If she's ever ready. I look over at Roger, who's staring at the floor again, and fiddling with his hands, twisting that hideous ring around his finger. "You too, Roger. This is really nice," she says as an afterthought. _

_She's not even looking at him. _

_"I'll do whatever I can to help you," I say as I kneel down next to the bed. "Do you want to come stay with me for awhile?" _

_One up that, you fucking creep. Where'd I get this boldness all of a sudden, anyway? I couldn't even talk to her not too long ago._

_"Let me sleep on it?" _

_"Of course." Roger and I leave, and on the way back to the living room I stop him. "She can stay with me. You don't need to worry about anything, just please get her things from Syd's house."_

_"Yeah," Roger mumbles. He crosses his arms over his chest and shuffles back to his chair. "That's fine. That's perfect. Just perfect."_


	89. Syd - Cambridge, June 2006 - Syd And Maisie's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was very bittersweet to write. This is the last you will hear of 2006 Syd from his own point of view.

I don't feel well lately, but it's worse than usual. I know I told Maisie, and you, and everyone that I was dying back in January, but obviously I have been able to live on borrowed time for awhile now. If it weren't for the life I've been living, and especially if it weren't for Maisie coming home, I might not have made it as far as I have been able to. Things are starting to hurt more and more every day, though. My body feels weak even though my spirit doesn't. Maisie and I don't go out anymore at all, really. My bike is rusting outside; I've got no energy to ride it, but Kathy comes and sits in the garden with us even though I don't let her into the house (she understands). Rosemary and Ian come often too, and Ian brings his new baby daughter Emily sometimes (she is so cute I can't stand it - he doesn't get any time with her at all when Maisie and I are around because we are holding her all the time). I let him know that I am so happy to have her here, especially because I don't have the energy to play with my other small friends now even though they still come by sometimes. Babies don't require much energy if you aren't their parent. If Maisie and I got married when we were young do you think we would have been parents? I always wanted to have my own child, and she did too back then, even though it changed. If I never got sick I think we would have gotten married and had six kids and three cats. Maybe a dog, but probably not: too much bloody fuss, dogs are.

You know I don't like to be approached by my fans, but what most people don't know is that while I'm not interested in talking with them in person, I will happily return written letters. To me, it's a sign of respect that they keep their distance even though they have things they'd like to tell me. I don't hate them, I promise, or begrudge them their love of my music, I just don't really understand why they're holding on. Many of them are people who are hurting very much and see something relatable in me somehow (though why they would feel that way still eludes me), and usually they want some sort of answer from me...a lot of the time it's one I don't know how to give them. So I always tell them that. 

There's a small stack of them that I've been putting off for a bit now to enjoy my time with my wife and my family, but Maisie is out with an old friend from here...Vicky, the first friend she made here...and I have free time so I'm going to answer some of these, and I'm going to call my best friend. My best friend, my beloved friend, Roger Waters, who no one loves but me it seems. He has done a wonderful job hurting everyone who's ever loved him and driving them off. As far as I know, he's been married many times now...I don't understand why you'd marry someone if you didn't really want to spend the rest of your life with them, but I have been sure since I was 21 years old of who I wanted that with. Most people are probably not as lucky as me. Roger though... it's sad, isn't it? People think I have this sad life because I don't get out much and I lived alone for most of it, but my poor Roger has just lost his way, it seems. He's very lost and sad, and I don't have to have been talking often with him to know that; I know without being told. If we could have been together all this time I think he'd be happier. I don't know, though...Maisie might not have come home if I was talking to him. (She never asked though.) I love him so very much, have I said that lately? 

I'll call him after I reply to this letter, though, because it's so very short:

_Mr. Roger Barrett,_

_I am an art student, I'm 21, and I am researching your paintings for one of my classes, but I can't find many of them on the internet. Do you have any photos you can send me? I'm sorry if it's an inconvenience. Your art work (what little I've seen of it) is inspiring and so interesting to me. _

_I hope that you are feeling well these days. Have you put all your demons behind you? I don't know how much of what they say is true, but just in case any of it is, I hope that you're happy these days._

_Thank you,  
Liam_

It's not often at all that a fan talks to me about my art instead of my music (which I consider embarrassing, so please don't tell me how brilliant it is), and I'm so touched.

_Liam,_

_I don't understand why you'd pick my paintings out of anyone else's to write about, but I would be happy to send you some pictures of my art that I have left, if you will send me a picture of some of yours so that I may look at it and maybe tell you what I think. _

_As for your question...yes, I have put all my demons away. I'm very happy, happier than I ever have been, and I couldn't ask for a better life. I'm not quite sure what to tell you about how much is true because I don't necessarily know all the stories they tell about me. I am so happy though, so if anyone ever asks feel free to tell them that I am doing so very well._

_I look forward to seeing your work._

_Love  
Roger_

When I finish writing Liam's address on the envelope (I drew some things on it too, flowers and stars and such) I set it down on my desk and reach for my cell phone, and search through my address book for Roger's cellphone number that he sent me in a letter three years ago and I've never used, preferring to write instead. This reminds me of the day last December when I called Maisie. It's not nearly as scary, for quite a number of reasons, but it's still making me very nervous. I haven't heard Roger's voice in 10 years. 

The phone rings twice, and there's my friend's funny voice.

"Hello?" 

"Roger, it's Syd…"

The line goes quiet, just like it did when I called Maisie, but I suspect it's for different reasons.

"Syd???" I can hear an uptick in his tone of voice: he's happy. I'm happy, too. I'm so happy to talk to my Roger on the phone. It's very exciting. I'm feels like I should have done this forever ago.

"Yes, me!"

"Oh, my goodness. How are you, my friend?"

"Well to be honest, Roger, I'm calling you because I am feeling worse and worse physically and I thought it was finally time to let myself be uncomfortable enough to call you on the phone." 

"You're feeling worse?"

"Yes, silly. I don't have much time left. I said that a few months ago, but this time it's for real." 

"Syd, you're kidding. Are you sick?"

"Yes, I have cancer. Pancreatic cancer."

"My god."

"It's alright. I thought since it's been awhile perhaps we could talk for a bit?"

"Of course we can. I'm not busy at the moment. How have you been?"

Should I tell him? That Maisie and I are together, I mean. That we're married? I think it's a bit too much to tell him we're married, so I'm not going to. Not now. I'll put it in a letter for Maisie to give to him. 

"You know, Roger, I...I'm doing so well."

"I'm so happy to hear that. What have you been up to? What are you doing? Are you painting? Making music?" 

"I haven't picked up an instrument in years. I do paint, though, but I also have a garden at my sister's and I've tried to make something of the old one in my backyard, but I think the damage was done. I have quite a life here, quite a few friends...and you will never guess, Roger!"

"Oh, you know I hate to guess."

"Just once, please? Someone came to stay with me. Guess who."

"Oh, I don't know. Is it one of the guys from the band?" I giggle at him. He's going to be so shocked when he finds out.

"No…"

"Hmm...an old friend from Cambridge?"

"Sort of. You could say that."

"A man or a woman?"

"A woman."

"Oh, really? An old girlfriend?"

"Yes!!!" Now the line goes quiet again.

"Lindsay?"

"No, Roger."

"Ellen?"

"Not her either."

"I don't…" He has to be playing a game with me. There's no way he forgot about her. She was with David for so many years.

"Maisie, you dumb dumb."

Roger sniffs in that way he does when he's nervous, and he clears his throat. 

"Ah...oh. Wow. That's...wow."

"It's amazing, isn't it?"

"That is... it's...yes, it's certainly amazing. How, um… how is she?" 

"She's wonderful." I can hear it in my voice: if I were trying to conceal my feelings I would have failed miserably, but I'm not trying to hide from him how much I love her. I'm only trying to hide the fact that we are married (as much as I want to tell him!). "She's still so beautiful, Roger, and so nice, and she's forgiven me for everything." Another very long pause. It seems like Roger is uncomfortable, but I know him too well to try and get him to tell me what's wrong.

"Well, I'm very happy to hear that she's forgiven you. Are you two…" How I wish I could tell him the truth about us, but I don't trust him yet. 

"No, no. Nothing like that. Not that I haven't tried, but she doesn't feel that way about me." 

"You tried, did you?"

"More than once. She firmly rejected me. It's alright though because I knew that what happened meant she'd never love me again." 

"I understand." 

"But I still love her so very much, you know."

"I know. You always did." 

"I want you to make sure of something for me. Can you do that?"

"I'd do anything for you, my friend. Anything." 

"Can you make sure that if Maisie and David see one another at my funeral service that they spend time together? I know David is married, but she's still so in love with him, and I want her to be so happy. I want her to have all of the love she didn't want from me." 

"Yes, I... if that's what you want."

"More than anything in the world." 

"Then of course that's what I'll do." 

Roger and I talk for a long while before the conversation comes to a natural close. I'm delighted to hear about all the projects he's involved in. Roger is so smart, isn't he? 

"I love you, Roger." 

"Syd...I have always loved you. I know I've been bad to you. I've made so much money off of you, and I know it. I've been so bad to you. How can you forgive me?"

"Since Maisie came back and forgave me I understand how it feels to be forgiven, so I've forgiven everyone, especially you." 

We say our goodbyes. He promises to try to call again, but I don't get my hopes up. There's so much more I have left to do before I get even weaker. The most important thing, beyond the matters of money, is spending every second I can in the arms of my wife. If my best friend calls again, that's even better, but for now I don't need him. I have everything I need right here, and I couldn't be happier, or more grateful. I've lived quite a life. Sometimes wonderful, sometimes scary, sometimes very lonely and sad, but it's been a ride. Luckily for me, the past six months have been such a blessing. I don't feel like there's anything more I need. My love came home to me, and I have this beautiful grandniece that is the most perfect baby in the entire world, and I regret nothing in my life, not anymore.


	90. Roger - Cambridge, 1969 - Roger's House, Syd's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now here's your first introduction to Cora, an OC I created for Roger. She will play a larger role in the second volume, and is one of two new characters to gain their own POV scenes.
> 
> Also, here's a taste of some Roger/Syd which I suspect some of you were excited about.

_I look over and there's Cora sitting there looking so superficially gorgeous, but she's so fucking empty headed. Dear god, is she dumb. Dumb and boring. Why am I going out with her? Oh, I remember: she liked me, she's out of this world sexy, a gorgeous blonde goddess or something. It fits the rock star image, and I guess on some level it's nice in a way that's very fleeting: good for getting me hard, basically. Is there anything else? I guess she's nice. She doesn't know my music much, that's a plus. I guess she's funny? She's not very funny._

_I just wish she were Maisie, is all, and to be very honest with you I don't have sex with Cora with my eyes open, ever, because if I don't pretend I won't get off. I spend most of my time with Cora just 'yes'ing' her. I haven't let her stay at my place since Maisie was in my bed the other day, by the way. I don't want Cora's body to replace any sign that Maisie slept here. I sleep next to where she was every night since then, with my hand right on the spot where her body was. Call me pathetic, or call me creepy and obsessed. Go ahead and tell me she wouldn't like it. I can't help how I feel. I haven't washed those clothes, either. I've hugged them while I slept, trying to feel the warmth of her body even though it's no longer in them. Maybe I've sort of fantasized that her body is in them, and that it's not just empty clothes. Maybe I've thought endlessly about how she was lying here in my bed for the first time since we broke up, and I couldn't even lie there with her. If David weren't there, I would have tried. I would have tucked her in, and she'd sigh with relief as I climbed in next to her. She'd have gladly submitted to my embrace, desperate for comfort as she was._

_"So, what are you doing today, baby," comes Cora's silky, feminine soprano voice. It's very nice sounding, but...meh. I'm unimpressed. Maisie's voice is deep and rich like chocolate mousse. _

_"I'm going to Syd's, and then to practice." She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me on the cheek, her perfume wafts around me, infiltrating me. I'll probably fuck her later. With my eyes closed. Pretending she's someone else. Pretending her lithe, petite body is Maisie's feminine, pinup model one. Pretending the flat stomach I'm kissing is her soft, barely padded one. Pretending Cora's weird shaved and loose pussy is Maisie's lush, tight and warm one. Pretending that when I tell Cora all those nice things in bed I'm actually telling Maisie. And pretending that when Cora moans out my name that it's Maisie doing it. If I don't do that I won't get off. _

_"Ooh. Can I come with you to practice? I haven't seen your band yet, and we've been together for months now!"_

_Yeah, there's a reason for that. Now Maisie will probably be there again. I'll be damned if I let Cora anywhere near somewhere she'll be. David doesn't leave her alone in the house, and so wherever he goes she also goes. She'll be at every rehearsal and every show, every party, every small gathering. Cora can't know, so I guess Cora stays home. Can it really be like that forever though?_

_"No. Not today." Her face falls, and she folds her hands into her lap, withdrawing them from me. _

_"Do you really want to be with me?"_

_Why do women ask questions like this? I don't know? Maybe? Not really? Sometimes? It depends? What kind of an answer does she want me to give her? The honest answer is ‘you’ll do for now’. _

_"Yes, Cora. I want to be with you. There's a lot of stuff going on right now with Syd, and I'm very emotionally tired from it."_

_"What's going on??" _

_I don't want to tell her much of anything, because then she'll wonder why I'm tearing myself up over what happened to Maisie, who she doesn't even know exists at this point. I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I have to come to it. _

_"Can't really talk about it, sorry. I've got to go. Wear something sexy for when I come home." _

_I wink and give her a deep kiss. If nothing else she's very fuckable. She stands up to see me off, and I pat her bum before I walk out the door. I don't know how to give her anything else, so hopefully the sex is enough. Seems to be...she hasn't left yet. Maybe she just hopes that I’ll eventually commit to her, and that it will become about more than sex? I’ll try, but it’s my first go of this very serious relationship thing, so no guarantees._

_The walk to Syd's as usual is nice, but I wonder what Maisie is doing at David's house. Do you think David would move on her that quickly? I don’t think he would only because he’s actually a decent man who respects women and treats them like human beings, and not distractions or masturbatory aids. I’d probably have moved on her by now, but it’s only been a few days. She’d probably reject me in reality, but it’s my favorite fantasy right now (I have a few of her that I cycle through). I love to think of her so weak and helpless, and in need of me. _

_It goes this way most of the time: I’ve offered Maisie a place to stay instead of David (and I went in there to get her instead of David), and she’s accepted, and one night I wake up to her knocking on the door to my bedroom, her long mane of loose curls falling around her shoulders and down her back, and her eyes wet with tears. I let her in, and she asks “Roger, can I sleep with you? I’m lonely,” she says, “and I’m so afraid.” I watch her tremble, a strap of her nightgown falling off her shoulder in just the right way as to be so innocent, but sexy, and she holds her arms over her breasts which if she weren’t covering them would be poking through the thin satin material of her nightdress. “Of course,” I say to her as I make room for her next to me. She lies down, and she looks at me, her cheeks reddening, and then she looks away. Boldly, I reach out and turn her face back to me. “Thank you for saving me” she says, “I was so scared. You’re my hero.” A few moments pass where she stares into my eyes, a willingness in them that hadn’t previously been there, and then she says, “Will you please hold me?” And I pull her into me, I hold her all night, and she buries her head in my chest: trusting that I’ll protect her from Syd from now on. "I'll always protect you," I whisper tenderly in her ear before I give her a gentle, but dominant kiss, the kind that lets her know that she can trust me to keep her and to let me be her shepherd. "Do you promise?" "Yes," I answer, "you can trust me.". Months later, we fall in love, of course. And she doesn’t even remember David exists. _

_He wouldn’t do that though, David. He wouldn’t be so bold and he wouldn’t move in on her while she was suffering. At least I don’t think he would. I think he’ll wait a few months. At first I thought David didn’t have enough courage to make any kind of move on her at all, but he seems to have been emboldened by the encounter enough to ask her to stay with him (I don’t even want to talk about how angry that makes me), so now I don’t know what he’ll do. One thing is for certain: it doesn’t even matter who she’s with or what she does. She is no one else's but mine._

_Syd’s windows are still blocked off with throw rugs and towels, and as I walk in I notice the wicked stench of rotten food and garbage, and I find my best friend lying on the floor in a heap: his eyes staring off into space, a line of drool hanging from his lips. It’s possible he’s barely moved in days. He looks a fright, much like she did on that day David brought her back, with his matted hair and his crazed expression. I don’t think he even sees me. I rub his back, and he doesn’t respond to me, so I pull him up into a hug._

_“Hey, Syd,” I whisper, “Are you okay?” _

_“Roger…” He buries his head in my neck. “Roger, you have to get David to bring Maisie back. He took her away. She was so sad, she didn't want to go. He took her away! She's gone...I can't live without her. Please make him bring my Maisie home." _

_I hold him, my darling friend: my suffering, disintegrating companion. He's nothing of what he used to be when I found I loved him so much...he was so beautiful, so alive, and so magnetic. He was the first friend I felt so tenderly for. Now he's broken, balding, stinking and barely hanging on to life._

_"I know it hurts, mate, but what you did was wrong, and Maisie isn't coming home. I'm sorry, but she's very afraid now, and very damaged, and you can't see her anymore." _

_He starts to sob into my shoulder, and I cradle his head, taking his matted hair in between my fingers. I rock him, and I kiss his cheek._

_"I have to. I have to talk to her. She'll come home if I talk to her. I'll be better."_

_"Syd, it isn't an option. You need to let her heal, and not make it about yourself." _

_What a hypocrite I am, telling him that, but at least I follow her in secret and don't disturb her life. Maisie has no idea when I'm watching her. She doesn't realize that I see everything she does when I watch: that I get lost in taking in every little smile, laugh and careful tucking of her hair behind one ear. I'm in love with every word, every laugh, every quirk and flaw and foible. I covet her, I want to conquer and possess her, but rescue her, save her from every disappointment and all harm that could ever come to her. And in some way, I feel this way about my friend, too. I love everything about him, even now when he's so twisted and broken. And if I could save Syd I would, but he's beyond my help._

_"I just want my Maisie." _

_"I know. I want her too, but she isn't coming for either of us. Take some time, focus on healing yourself, and move on. You'll only cause yourself pain."_

_"You want Maisie, too?"_

_Maybe it's time to tell someone._

_"God, yes, Syd. Yes. So much that I'm in physical pain."_

_"Me too. Why did you hurt her then?"_

_"Why did you?" _

_He goes quiet, and I hold him tighter. _

_"I won't move on. I'll never move on. I'd wait until I die for my Maisie." _

_"What's it about her?"_

_"Everything."_

_"No, really. I've never loved anyone like this."_

_"Me either."_

_That's a lie, and we both know it, but we don't talk about it. We don't talk about it, and I try my best every day not to think about it. _

_"What is it, Syd?"_

_"Her eyes."_

_"For me it's the innocence, and her lips. I loved kissing her."_

_"Me too."_

_I'm going to take a huge risk here, but I think the moment is right. _

_"Do you know what I love about you?"_

_"No." _

_"The same things." He nestles in closer to my chest and I kiss his forehead. "I love you, okay? No matter what." _

_"I love you, too." _

_His body so close to mine gives me chills, and I shiver as I move my hand down his lower back._

_"I'll always be here for you."_

_"I know."_


	91. Maisie - London, September 2006 - The Hotel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maisie and David say their goodbyes, planning a reunion for a few months down the line. They won't allow themselves to be separated ever again, even if it means some other people might get hurt.

I don’t want to let David go home, and I don’t want to go home, either. If I could I’d buy this hotel room and we’d just stay here for the rest of our lives. I know that’s unrealistic, though, and I know he has to go back to his family. I guess I’m nervous that even though we’re talking about moving in together it won’t turn into anything, so I don’t want to let him go. I don’t want to take the chance. At the same time I trust David, and I’d trust him with my life, so even though I’m afraid I don’t need his reassurance. We’ll be fine, I know it. By this time next year we’ll be in our house enjoying one another and rediscovering everything we gave up. 

I look over at him packing his bag, the muscles of his thick, sexy arms rippling in the sunlight, and I can’t resist: I walk over to him and wrap my arms around him from behind, and I kiss his shoulder. He turns around to look at me, his beautiful blue eyes warm and happy, and his smile even warmer. His friendly, sweet smile is one of my favorite things about him, and always was, even back before I realized I liked him. David turns around and I grab both sides of his face and kiss him, trying to savor the last remaining moments of our time together. 

"Don't go," I whisper to him. He bends down and kisses the top of my head, his hand resting lazily on my shoulder.

"It's not forever, babe. I'll text you as soon as I find a house."

"Will you email me pictures?" I rest my head against his strong chest and run my hand along his belly. Then I poke it, just like he poked my belly that day, the day I fell into his arms. He laughs just like I did then: like it tickles, and I know it does. I smile now when I think back on that day, especially now that my memories of the late 60s are no longer tainted by what happened to me, and now that the man who put me through that healed and moved on, and became my beloved husband. Now I can look back on things like the day I met Syd in Nick's basement and he told me that stupid joke that made me laugh too hard, or the day I fell off the ladder and on top of David, and I can feel happy; I can feel nostalgic for those times. 

"Even better: I'll email you the entire listing." 

"And I get to furnish it?"

"I want one room to myself to do what I'd like to do with it. Otherwise, yes. You and Gloria can go crazy on it. Are you still friends with Gloria?" I grab the collar of his black t shirt, pull his face down toward mine, and we press our foreheads together. I get up on my toes, and I give him another kiss. I could go on like this forever, stuck in this moment, kissing my handsome prince and enjoying every last touch of hands and lips and arms.

"I'm agreeable to that. And yes. We live together."

"I'd hope you'd be agreeable to that. I know you're a type A personality, but it's one room."

I smack and squeeze his bottom as I walk back to my bag, which is just my purse, and then the plastic shopping bag I got from the sex shop last night. While I'm picking my clothes up off the floor I feel him return the favor, except he grabs my ass with both hands. 

"If you aren't careful, David, I'm going to have you on that bed again and you'll miss your check out time." 

He pushes his cock against my ass and I do a nice yoga forward fold, which even though I'm doing to tease him it feels so good. I can't wait to do another practice when I get home...damn, that's right. I've got to go back to Syd's and help Rosemary with the auction. (I left her my portion of Syd's money, by the way. I don't think he realized that I'm wealthy and didn't need it. I asked her to please put half of it in a savings account for Emily, but otherwise it's hers to do with as she pleases. She gave so much more of her life for him than I did.) That means I have to go back to Syd's house. Our house. Our bed. Not now, Maisie, okay? Let's enjoy our time with David.

"You be careful, or my wife will be after us wondering where I am, and she'll find you with your pants down, young lady, because I'm still too sore to function." I stand up, turn around and place my hand on his cock, squeezing it just enough.

"You make sure you're not too sore to break in our new home." 

"Don't you worry about that. She and I don't really make love often."

We walk, hand in hand, out to the balcony and that beautiful hot tub. David collects our wine glasses from the ledge, but I sneak an arm around his waist, and we look out over London with its towering man-made monstrosities and its crowded, dirty streets (I really don't like cities). 

"It's beautiful," he whispers, but then turns toward me and kisses my cheek, "and I'm purposely not being corny and telling you you're prettier, even though I desperately want to." 

"As if you're the corniest person in this…" I stop before I finish my sentence: relationship. This relationship. That's what I was going to say. I can't help it...it seems like nothing's changed between us. Is that what it is, a relationship? 

"Let's just pick up where we left off and not bother trying to put a different name on what we are and what we have. It's a relationship: we can both admit that to ourselves and one another." 

"How'd you know what I was thinking?"

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"

"I don't think I do."

"Well I know you're lying. You always know what I'm thinking."

"No I don't, you old man, you think in guitar chords." We laugh for a few minutes, and then when we stop he steps back, and he smiles at me...there's that smile again. I am wilting just looking at it. In my head I'm busy coming up with 5,000 different ways to keep him from having to go home. We could run off together and disappear into the wilderness of some part of the world that they'd never suspect we'd be staying in, or we could hide out in this hotel room and lock the door and never come out, or we could…

“Want to know what I’m thinking?” David always knows how to pull me out of my ruminating. 

“Maybe. Do I?” 

“I think you do.”

“Try me, then.” He walks up to me, and as we stare into one another he grabs my hand and with his other hand pushes my hair behind my ear. 

“You don’t need me to. You already know.” I do know, though, because I can see it in his eyes: he’s thinking the same thing I am. I’m thinking about how much I love him, how badly I’ve missed him all these years, and how knocked off my feet I am by our little reunion and our new plans. 

“Yeah, I guess I do. Are you sure there’s no way I can keep you longer? I really don’t want to let you walk away again.” We walk back into the room, David sets the glasses on the bar, and gathers his things together. After everything is in an organized pile near the door, he comes back over to me, and we sit down next to one another on the bed. 

“You aren’t letting me walk away. It’s only for a little while. Don’t act like it’s going to be a long time until I come right back. You know me better than that. And I know you better than that too. Now that you have my phone number I bet you text and call me all the time, and I’ve got to ask you to stop because you’re going to get me in trouble.” I laugh, shake my head, and then lean it on his shoulder. 

“Yeah, probably. You can call or text me whenever you want, but give me time to tell Gloria first. I have no idea how she’s gonna react.” 

“Obviously, we’re going to be quiet about this now, right? I know we both want to run to Nick and Rick and say, ‘look, we’ve finally gotten back together just like you’ve both been telling us we should!’, but perhaps for now it’s best to keep this between ourselves and Roger and Gloria?” 

“I agree. Is it going to be okay? You know. Doing this. Are we doing something wrong?” I snake my arm through his, and I take my time touching and squeezing every inch of it. He’s still so strong, I don’t care that he’s put on a bit of weight. He doesn’t seem to care that I have. 

“Well, I am. I think it depends on what you think. Do you think you’re doing something wrong?” 

I do think I’m doing something wrong. Nah, I know I’m doing something wrong. He is the one violating his vows, but I could say no. I could tell him we shouldn’t do it. In some way, I’m not sure why it’s my responsibility to think of his wife and kids (most of whom are adults anyway, and probably have no real interest in what their father is doing with that part of his life...or I could be lying to make myself feel better). But yeah, I’m doing something wrong resuming a relationship with a man after he’s been married since the early 90s, and I know that. I know what I’m doing could and probably will someday cause a lot of harm to his wife, and I wish that I could say I cared enough to step back and let their marriage be. I don’t care enough. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I don’t care enough to walk away from the man I’ve spent the past 20 years longing for. David is my soulmate. You know it, and I know it, and he always has been, and always will be, and nothing is going to keep us apart. Not his marriage, not my best friend, not my trust issues. Nothing.

And now I’m standing next to my car door, he’s getting ready to get on the train back to Cambridge, and I’m wishing I could just drive him there so we could make this last even longer somehow. 

“It’s not feasible. You can’t drive me. I’m sorry, babe. I’ll text you as soon as I get back to the hotel, though, okay?” 

I nod, and I can feel my eyes tearing, but I turn my eyes toward the sky and breathe until I can stop them. There’s no use crying now. It won’t be long until David and I are together again.

“I love you so much. Text me as soon as you get back, okay?” 

“I love you more.” 

“No, you don’t.” We kiss, and I can feel both of us smiling as our lips meet. I part my lips, hoping he’ll do the same and I can get a deeper kiss and feel his tongue against my teeth. He does, and I kiss him like it’s the last time I’m going to see him, even though I know it isn’t. He opens my car door for me, and before I get in he grabs me and holds me tight against him.

“Drive safe, Maisie. I’ll see you real soon, babe, I promise.” I nod, and I squeeze him, and when I climb into my car and he shuts my door I watch him as he walks away toward his train station. Last night, this morning, this afternoon, all of it: it still doesn’t feel real.


	92. David's Wife - Sussex, 2007 - Their House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the final preview chapter - this timeline will not resume until volume 3.
> 
> I realize that this says that the story has 94 chapters, but due to something I took out of this volume to start off volume 2 after I started publishing this it actually has 93, and so next week will conclude volume 1!

I heard David come home about an hour ago, probably with a new cellphone, and I left him alone. Mostly it's because while I'm craving answers, I think I might really be afraid of getting them. If I ask him for answers, and the answers hurt me, am I an idiot for asking for them? Yes, I am afraid. In fact, in terrified. I'm terrified to hear the truth from David because it might confirm all of my worst fears about our marriage and about myself. 

It's time to and get it over with, I suppose. I open my bedroom door and head down the hallway toward the guest room, where David is. I wonder what he’s doing and thinking. Do you think he feels bad? It didn’t seem to me that he felt bad at all. No regret, no remorse, nothing. It’s unlike him; I’ve never considered him to be the kind of person who was so heartless and cold, but maybe I don’t know him. Maybe I don’t know him, and maybe I never did. Maybe the guy that I married is only who David wanted me to see. I’m trying to hold myself together, but I keep flashing back to all of these wonderful memories from our past: our first date when we stayed three hours longer than we both planned to because we were so lost in talking to one another, every time we conceived each of our children and all their births, quiet mornings in bed, and then all the less happy memories: David’s melancholy...his moods. His constant fucking moods. I liked the broody thing when I met him, and I liked it for a number of years of our marriage, but the older I’ve gotten the harder it’s been to deal with. I might feel sort of happy to be rid of it. The melancholy and the moods were bad, but what was beyond a “mood” was the anger. I really, really hated the anger. He never once directed it at me, but he could flip like a switch if he felt like I was being threatened, especially if he was drunk. I don’t let him drink anymore, and that’s really a major reason why. More bad memories...wow, I feel like everything is coming up all at once. David’s been boring in bed for years now. I can’t remember the last time I came from anything we did in bed together. I’m better at getting myself off than he is at getting me off, and I’m so sexually frustrated I want to do exactly what he’s done, but I don’t have an ex from two decades ago that I’m still holding onto. I think all my ex boyfriends are also married, anyway. What else has been bothering me for much longer than I’d like to admit? I think I spoke to you already about the parenting. David loves to be a daddy. He loves to play and take the kids out to do things and have a good time, but he barely ever changed a diaper or gave a bath or made a meal: that was my job. He got to be fun dad, and I was boring, angry mom. Of course I was fucking angry and exhausted: I was with them all the time, a lot of the time on my own without him even physically present. I don’t even know why I kept having kids. (Please don’t take that as me saying I don’t love my children: I do.) Oh, and what about the way I can’t stand it when he doesn’t close the basement door when he goes downstairs to play guitar? He’s a brilliant musician, I have just come to really resent the noise. Not to mention he still fucking tours, and I think at his age he should slow it the fuck down. 

I guess I don’t want to be married to David, either, and I think I’ve been feeling this way for a long time and I haven’t allowed myself to come to terms with it. I’m stubborn, you know? I’m stubborn, and I thought I was happy, and I was not eager to do or say anything that was going to smash that illusion for myself or the people around me, especially my children. I would give anything for every single one of them, even my life if I had to, and I do my best to fake it until I make it when I’m around them (even the adult ones). I haven’t been happy in a long time, a very long time in fact. I haven’t felt loved, or sexy, or appreciated or really like I have much worth at all to my husband for many years now, and it isn’t simply because he’s been sleeping around. It’s because he’s such a fuckhead to have gotten married when he was in love with someone else. He married me under false pretenses. When he vowed to love and honor me above all others...he went into that knowing he was lying. He spoke those words, said the vow in front of God and all of our loved ones, knowing that he didn’t actually mean them. That is not something that the David I thought I knew would ever do. Maybe, as hurt, angry and betrayed as I feel, this is the right thing for everyone involved. He loves her, she loves him, and that’s fine, but I think I want to love me. 

When I reach the door to his bedroom I’m about to knock, but then I hear him speaking quietly. He groans.

“Yeah, I had to get a new phone, but I was able to back up all my contacts so I’ve still got everyone’s numbers. Yes, babe, she threw my phone against the wall after she hung up with you, handed it to me, and suggested I buy myself a new one. No, I don’t blame her at all, it’s just...it’s such a mess. I’m sorry. I had no idea she was going to call you. I would have intervened. You don’t deserve that. No, really. Stop it. The vows weren’t yours to break, they were mine. Yeah, I’m going to be leaving probably soon, and I’ll come home as soon as I can. I think it’s going to be an amicable divorce, and we aren’t planning on telling the kids. Yeah, really. I don’t know, Maisie. I’m sure it’ll be okay, it’s just … yeah. Yeah. Look, let me go, I think I really need a nap. I’ve got a headache coming on, and I’m absolutely miserable. No, I really don’t want to talk about it right now, but we can talk about it later before I go to bed tonight. Alright. Yes, I love you too, babe. Don’t worry. It’s going to be fine now. Alright. Bye.” 

Well now that he’s been talking about me I have to wait to knock or he’s going to know I heard him. So much about what I just heard hurts me really, really deeply, like him saying “I don’t want to talk about it now, but we can talk about it later”...I never got that. Maybe he won’t actually talk to her about it later. Maybe he’s just paying her lip service. That's not what my gut feeling says, though. My gut says that he's going to talk to her about what happened, and tell her all his feelings about it. That really upsets me. I mean, I'm pretty god damned angry about that! In all these years I've been going over and over and over in my head how I'm supposed to get David to talk to me about anything, let alone his feelings about our relationship, but he'll talk to May about our relationship. Not just their own relationship, no, but ours, too. What else is he telling her about me? It's entirely possible that May knows more about my marriage than I do. You know what? It wouldn't surprise me if she did. She apparently figured out how to get him to talk. Why couldn't I do it?

You know what? Fuck it. I don't care if he knows I heard him talking about me. He should know, anyway. He deserves to know that I'm aware that not only was he talking to May about me, but that I'm also aware that he makes a habit of sharing his feelings with her. Does it matter anyway? I already told him I intend to get a divorce, so does it matter if she's talking to him about us?

No, it does matter. It matters because I doubt this is the first time he's done so, and even if we are divorcing before tonight that wasn't the case. 

Fuck it.

I knock on the door.

"Come in," David groans. I open the door, and he's lying on the bed with his new phone next to his head on the pillow. He's covering his eyes with his arm, and he's turned out the light. "What is it?"

Oh. 'What is it'. Real fucking nice, David.

"I'm going to ignore that you just asked me 'what is it' and just get to the point then."

"I have a very bad headache, and I'd appreciate it if we could perhaps talk about this later."

No, there won't be a later. This is for now. You've been unfaithful to me for our entire marriage, and you don't get to talk about this later. 

"Oh, no. Absolutely not, David. I have to say what I'm going to say. You don't get to talk about it later."

"Alright, then. Go ahead." 

He doesn't sound passive aggressive. He sounds... sincere. Alright, but I'm not going easy on him.

"I heard you talking to her just now."

"Alright."

Holy shit, is that it? Is that all you have to say? I'm fucking enraged. This is the problem. It's exactly this: he has so little to say when I communicate with him. He doesn't fucking care at all about me, or about us.

"That's it. That's exactly it."

"Just tell me. "

"I heard you fucking tell her you'd talk to her about this later." Another long pause where David does not say anything. Not a god damn bloody word.

"Why the fuck don't you have more to say to me about this? You have done so much for harm to me and to our family. You should be explaining yourself"

Another pause. Another fucking pause. It doesn't even matter to him that he should be talking to me. What the fuck?

"Will you just fucking tell me? God damn it, Kim," he growls in a way he never has before. He sounds angry, exhausted, exasperated, drained and desperate.

"Fine. In all these years I've never been able to get you to talk about your feelings, but you'll talk to her about them 20 years after being away from her?"

"Okay, if you want to do it this way you need to accept that my first reaction to you talking to me this way is to get angry, and I am trying to be considerate of you by letting you talk to me about your feelings until you're finished. That way, I can let the anger pass, and I'll have had enough time to consider and formulate my response. I am very careful with my words. You think I don't talk to you, but you never give me time to talk to you, so I clam up to prevent myself from being angry with you. I don't want to yell at you, so I just don't say anything. And when we do this you expect me to respond to these little snippets of things: explain myself to you. I need time to think about what you want me to explain, and you don't give me that."

"Fine." That hurts, and it hurts because I know it's true. I've always expected him to explain himself before telling him how I feel. Well, I could have done with knowing that before you cheated on me, couldn't I? That way, perhaps you wouldn't feel as if you were longing for something I couldn't give you, or perhaps I could have learned to.

"Just talk."

"I feel resentful that you'd talk about our relationship to her because you would never talk about it with me. You would never communicate with me about any of our problems. We have never solved an issue in our marriage, and I don't even know if you know what they are."

"Do you want to know about me and Maisie, Kim?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Well, then, here's as much of it as I can think to tell you at the moment. I met her when she was 19, and I was 23. She was dating Roger at the time, and he brought her to practice one day, and I liked her immediately. I didn't know, really, how to flirt with women or show interest, and I didn't want to move in on Roger's girlfriend, so I didn't say anything. Roger was treating her terribly, she got with Syd. Syd was having a psychotic break, as you know, and he locked Maisie in his kitchen closet for five days. I was the one who came and got her and took her out, and then she came to stay with me, and then we fell in love. And it was perfect. It worked. I didn't open up to her until I discovered that she talked about her feelings. She didn't demand an explanation. She told me her feelings, and when she was done, I told her mine. And it worked. She left me because I wasn't able to be around as often as she needed, but we had no major issues, and yes, I am convinced that she is the one, and I have never gotten over it. Everything always just worked. Maisie was traumatized, she had post traumatic stress, and I knew that I had to be peaceful for her. So I let her feel safe talking about her feelings, and I felt safe talking about mine. Maisie and I did not accuse or blame one another, and we validated one another's feelings. You and I don't have that, and that's part of why I've never moved on."

Well, now I need a minute to process all of this, so I don't answer him. This hurts me, but not because I expect that we should have had this, but because I never allowed us to, and he never told me he needed it. 

"Well, I could have done with knowing about her, and about all these needs you have that I haven't been able to meet because you never told me you had them." 

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to know that I am still in love with her."

"Well perhaps we could have gotten over that hurdle if you had talked to me about it."

"I don't think so. I'm sorry."

"Why did you marry me, David, if you were in love with someone else?"

"I love you, too, you wanted what I wanted, we had a lot in common, we had fun together…"

"Yeah, but you could have gone after her before you met me, and spared me all this pain." David goes quiet again. I can't tell whether he is thinking about what to say, or if he's angry at me for saying that.

"I know I could have." 

"Then why didn't you?"

"When she left, she told me not to, but she didn't mean it, and I should have known that. I listened to her, but as you know, had been writing letters. I'm sorry, Kim."

I am still angry, but … I've got to let David be happy, and I deserve to be happy. Some part of me wants to tell the kids, to tear him apart to them, to let them know he is a cheater, but I'm not going to.

"I just wish you'd told me sooner. I have one more condition."

"What is it?"

"I'd like to come to your house and spend some time with you both. I want to know who will be spending time with my children and grandchildren."


	93. Maisie - Cambridge, September 2006 - Syd And Maisie's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the last chapter of volume 1! This was strategically placed to both open up Volume II for more and also to combat some ideas maybe you've had about my OC. 
> 
> Volume II is not complete, but it does have about 50 chapters as of today, so there is more than enough to post one chapter a week if you're interested in continuing on this weird adventure with me.
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed this. I put six months of hard work into it and it has meant so much to me to share it with you.
> 
> Stand by for Volume II next week!

I realized something just now. 

I got home from the hotel a few hours ago, and I sunk down in Syd's chair like I've been doing. It's got his impression in it still, and beyond the letter he wrote me before he died, it's the most I have left of him. I slept here in the weeks after he passed every night, hanging on to the heat of his body that I was convinced I could still feel there. It began to hurt my back, and I had to take a break from the exercise I've been doing to rehab it, so I moved my things to the guest room, where he and I slept together for the first time. That kept me awake, thinking about that night over and over again, but I still sleep there. 

I was sitting here drifting, and I realized that even though you've seen so much of my life and I've told you so much of my experience you know next to nothing about me outside of the context of the men in my life. It's time we changed that. I'm not a silly Mary Sue. I'm not a Manic Pixie Dreamgirl. I'm not only a statue on a pedestal (an undeserved pedestal) for three men. I'm not an empty vessel for you to insert yourself into (shut up, yes, that is what she said). 

I'm more than that, and it's time I showed you why. It's time I became human to you, and not an object of affection (not that I'm really complaining). 

My name is May Elizabeth Wells Barrett. I was born on February 26, 1948 in beautiful, lush Carlisle, Massachusetts to Henry Wells and Maxine Goldstein. (That's right - I'm Jewish. That's why I have a white lady last name and don't look white.) My father was the son of one of the country's first millionaires who made a fortune off the railroads, so he came from money, and he grew up to found a very large chain of department stores. My mother was the daughter of a banker, and received a college degree in Biology before most women did back then. She was a scientist. A botanist. Until Dad told her she didn't have to work anymore...so she didn't. That was before me. 

I do come from money. Let's acknowledge that, and you can groan that oh of course she does or whatever but we'll get it out of the way now.

My father was simply uninvolved. I barely knew him because he was always away on "business" (with, I later found out, a guy named Ivan), or at the office, or in his study. I got lots of toys. Good presents. But never a Daddy. I didn't get to be Daddy's Little Girl once. I sat out every father/daughter event ever. I don't think he ever really told me he loved me. 

My mother was put on sleeping pills after she gave birth to me, and that became a lifelong habit. She was cold and didn't bother with me unless it involved trying to buy my love with clothes which, when she made me try them on, were always the size she wanted me to be rather than the size she couldn't accept that I really was. She got addicted to pills...pills and booze. Pills and booze and men and parties. 

"Oh, honey. One day we'll get them to fit," she'd always say. In fact, that was frequently the extent of our relationship: "Maisie, dear, I think it's time to put down the fork, don't you?" "Oh, sweetheart, you'll need to watch your figure if you want to get married," she said after I finally lost some weight in my teens. Yeah fuck you, Mom, you were a sad desperate housewife with a gay husband, and I'm a muse even with my fat behind and my big belly. So eat that. 

"It's too bad you got my Jewish nose."

"The other girls might play with you if you could lose that belly." 

And play with me they did not, and my weight was what they said it was about, but that wasn't it. I was the weird one. I always said what I thought, and I thought a lot about quite a few things. I had opinions about what I heard the adults say about the news at dinner parties. My teachers thought something was wrong with me: a girl shouldn't be interrupting so much. She should learn to be respectful, they told my parents. I remember when Henry told me to just learn to keep my mouth shut after a boy hit me for saying something about being against segregation. So I did learn to keep my mouth shut: I didn't speak in class. I didn't speak to my peers. I barely spoke at home except to Eugenia, my nanny, who I'll get to.

This was until middle school, when I went away to the all girls' boarding school I refuse to talk to you about because I have never gotten over it, and I met Gloria Steinmetz. That's right, the Gloria I've been talking about since we first met. It's the same one. She protected me when no one else had. We were stuck together like glue until I moved to England. She was funny, nerdy, opinionated but unlike me very comfortable with it, and always so wise. Every fun moment in my teens was spent with her, and another friend I eventually made...Jenny maybe? I don't know.

I graduated with good grades, but only because Henry was a contributor to my high school. I fucked off, cut class, cut school, but I never did anything bad... during school hours if I had cut school I'd be in the library poring over books: reading things I was too young to read. The Constitution, Karl Marx, Mary Wollstonecraft, Voltaire, Simone de Beauvoir. This was because…

School was so horrific when I went that I needed to escape; I needed something else to sink my head into so I could block it out just to feel safe at home. When I was 12, I watched John F. Kennedy debate Richard Nixon on television with my mother. It wasn't Kennedy's beautiful family and his charm that drew me: it was the debate. The ideas. The policy proposals. I remember election night like it was yesterday. What a feeling. What a feeling. Not just when Kennedy won, but just... that feeling of anxiety and suspense that I felt. They called the election the next morning for Kennedy, and I hadn't slept all night. Not one wink: I was too excited. That was when I fell in love with politics. That's when I started writing about politics. No one read anything I wrote but Eugenia and eventually Gloria, but I wrote. My diaries are full of my romantic issues but a lot of what they contain are my thoughts about what I was reading and watching. We won't talk about Kennedy being shot, that's so cliche... you know by now that every Boomer has never gotten over it. It was the Cold War, the missile crisis, Vietnam, civil rights, women's liberation, and so on. I was not yet 16 during some of this. 

And forget boys. I was too fat to be noticed, and if I picked them out I was always shot down, and they'd bully me for even liking them. That lasted until I left for England, too. When I got there the old cunt put me on a strict diet and made me work out with a coach, and I lost a lot of weight, but they thought I was still too chubby. They couldn't understand why my butt, legs, hips got bigger with muscle, but I could never lose all the fat. It wasn't even bad. I was not fat at that time. We call it curvy now, what I was. The Germans call it "zaftig", and I know this because a boutique saleslady said it about me in Berlin in the 70s. It was an insult then, but it really isn't now...and I shouldn't have been insulted back then, either. 

This is why my life with men has made no sense to me. 

I was never the one anyone wanted, but by the time I went to that park on that day I had learned how to dress and groom myself and how to apply makeup and how to take care of my coarse, curly Semitic hair so that it was a mane of loose curls and not a frizzy mop of mess always in a tight ponytail to hide it. I was finally pretty. It was all I ever (thought) I wanted, and I was happy, but I still did not know how to talk to people I didn't know, especially guys.

When Roger came up to me, it was the first time a boy ever hit on me. He was the first one who ever liked me, and that was so special, and this, you see, is why I have never forgiven him. Throwing me out was not really the catalyst for me hating him forever: it was that he stole my innocence and lied to me because he knew the entire time all he wanted was sex and that he was leading me on. When he took my virginity I really thought he cared, but he never did. He was the first one I made myself cum to the first time I masturbated (yes, I was 19...get over it), he was my first kiss, my first boyfriend, my first sex partner, the first guy I lived with, the first guy I cooked for. He was the one who I thought, at the time, was so special, and he ruined that.

I can't talk about Syd, I'm sorry. I can't go over the ordeal again, and I can't talk about how much I love him right now. I just can't. 

You know about David, but what you don't know is that when I turned 25 David sat me down, and he said:

"The only thing you love more than me is politics. People deserve to hear what you have to say, and not just me, but everyone. You're an excellent writer, you know what you're talking about even without a degree, but you're going to go get one. Plus, I love to hear you talk, but I can't talk to you on your level, and you need to be surrounded by people who can. You were born to do what I already know you're doing, so go to school. Get your degree, and write." 

I knew he was right, so I started at Cambridge University that year, and graduated with my BA in political science and journalism four years later. I worked on the newspaper there, and I got my own column my senior year. I worked for a small newspaper after college while David was touring, but then I left him, and I moved back to the States. Gloria had been in Maine for years at that point. David and I had stayed there a number of times. Before I broke up with him, I asked her if I could crash with her. I moved in with her in '86, and took a few years off of full time work so we could travel. 

I decided then that it was past time for me to be on my own and without a man, and I stayed single until '92 when I met TJ, a cute redhead graduate student who was interning with the newspaper I was writing for. I was much too old for her, and eventually I didn't have the patience to wait for her to grow up and stop trying to control my life, so I dumped her. I got a column in Time Magazine after that and met an older doctor named Sharon, who I fell in love with, got scared of, and ran away from. Then Time promoted me to Editor in Chief of their website, but I still maintained my column. In '04 a piece I submitted to the Times theorizing that the electoral college will eventually deny the will of the people again, and stating what that would mean for future elections was published. That was the end goal.

The next year, I retired early, hired my friend Paul to replace me, and started traveling with my friends again. 

Then Syd called, and you and I met again, so you know what my life has been like since then.

My favorite color? Indigo. 

Favorite band? Don't tell David but it's The Sisters Of Mercy, a British post punk band, but Pink Floyd is a close second.

Favorite food? Fried calamari without a doubt.

Favorite television show? Seinfeld and Sex & The City.

Favorite movie? A Time To Kill with Matthew McConaughey and Sam Jackson. Also Batman Returns. I love Michelle Pfeiffer in that black PVC catsuit.

Favorite book? Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, who I was named for. Jo, of course, is my favorite one of the bunch.

In the end, I was a shy victim for a lot of my life, but I decided I was going to be the opposite. I couldn't talk, now I say what I believe. I got in great shape and learned self defense, I owned my sexuality, I owned my body, and I stopped letting men define me. That's why the fact that I've held out on you so long is such a shame, because I'm not just what you've seen. I'm strong, I'm driven, I'm intelligent. I'm beautiful, I'm witty, I'm compassionate, I'm a great writer. I'm friendly. I'm also a procrastinator, a bit of a black cloud sometimes, very stubborn, materialistic, impatient, and broken. What is for sure is that I'm not just the girl they love. I'm also the woman I love.

Maybe there's more you want to know, but I'm so exhausted that I need to go to bed. Tomorrow we start going through Syd's things to decide what to auction off. I'm not sure if I'm really okay with that, and I think as his widow I should have been able to stop it if I wanted to, but I relented. I shouldn't have, I guess. It isn't what Syd would want, but they put too much pressure on me. 

I'm going to change now and try to sleep all night without crying. I hope this was helpful for you, and for our relationship going forward from here.

END VOLUME I


End file.
